Breaking Point
by Gianne
Summary: Sequel to 'Aaliyah' Gibbs gets a letter which asks for the release of 5 terrorists. The team is provided with photo's of Ziva, captured and in bad shape. The team tries to locate and rescue Ziva from him, and help her recover from all that has happened.
1. Prologue

Hi guys :) This is the first story I ever wrote which I published - and the first I finised too. I have gotten lovely reviews and because I sincerely believe that my English has gotten better since I started this, I went over it a couple times and rewrote some things. Still, there will probably be quite some mistakes in it, sorry for that. I tried my best.

Well, on with the story. It starts about a month or two after Ziva stayed behind in Israel in Aaliyah - because I couldn't leave Ziva hanging like that. It may look like what happened in the series, but I promise you I thought of it myself. So read, enjoy, and leave behind a review :)

And obviously, I don't own anything. Such a shame.

* * *

It was very early, especially for Tony, when he entered the office. It was totally empty. No typing, no ringing phones, not even a light revealed the presence of a fellow human being. Tony flipped a light on and walked to his desk. He had woken at 3 o'clock and had been thinking – worrying – about Ziva ever since. That happened pretty often, and the uselessness of it drove him crazy. Not only was she in Israel and not planning to come back anytime soon, Tony had also killed the man she most likely loved. And still he couldn't bring himself to get over her, to try to forget how disciplined but elegant she was when she was doing about anything, or how her deep her brown eyes were above her high cheekbones.

Three weeks had passed, and a replacement for Ziva had been found in the end: special agent Samantha Fanning, a slow and boring woman whose speciality was bureaucratic paperwork. How different she was from the hot-tempered, self-confident Ziva. Tony winced at the thought and was happy Fannings desk was empty for once, that the office was still clear of the scent of her overly sweet perfume. It wasn't just the fact that she was tardy and smelly and annoying, the fact that she replaced Ziva was Tony's biggest problem about the woman.

Now Fanning wasn't around, Tony could go through old files without getting stupid remarks about how he was missing his traitor-girlfriend. He had put his arm around Fannings neck just once, make the move he had seen Ziva do so many times. He could've shut Fanning up, just by putting a little more strength into it. He was quite sure that Gibbs wouldn't really disapprove, he liked Fanning just as much as Tony did – only Gibbs was a bit more subtle about it.

After working with Fanning, Tony had found out that McGee wasn't so bad. He had even started to think that, in comparison to Fanning, McGee was his kind of guy after all. One symptom of mental disorder – along all the others.

While reading about a serial killer who had met justice long ago, he suddenly laid eyes on a brown envelope packed in an evidence bag on Gibbs' desk. Curious, Tony put down the thick file and walked to the ill-lit desk. On the envelope was Gibbs' full name, the address of the NCIS-office and a stamp with an to Tony unknown black president on it. The envelope was filled with a small pile of sheets, Tony guessed by the size of it. He took another step forward, and his hand was already outstretched when he heard a very familiar voice right in his ear.

'Exiting, isn't it? I'm dying to know what's inside. Too bad it's for Gibbs. Somehow he always finds out things like that. I have always wondered how he does that. You know, some time ago, when he..'

Tony's heart had stuttered once, but picked up the rhythm when he recognised the voice of Abby Sciuto.

'Abby' he interrupted her babbling. 'Why are you here this early?'

The black-haired girl – she might have been an adult, but the word girl still seemed more appropriate – stopped talking immediately. She stared at her black leather boots. Even for Tony, who wasn't too familiar with subtle emotions, this was clear as if she had printed it on a billboard. The office fell totally silent for a while.

'You miss her too, don't you?' Abby said quietly. It wasn't a question. Tony didn't answer.

'Do you remember when she said I looked fine when that guy had told me I broke the dressing rules?'

Tony chuckled. 'It took weeks for you to get over that.'

Abby nodded. 'It still bugs me. At night, you know. I never really apologized.'

Tony ignored that last part and continued: 'And when she took down three marines in our war game, while they were armed and she wasn't.'

'She did? Wow, that's so cool. You never told me that…'


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. When I started my computer this morning – probably ****midnight at your place – my inbox was stuffed with emails from . Ok, maybe not stuffed, but a dozen emails for sure. People had actually read my story and added it to their favourites. Thank you guys. You really made my day. And if you read my story - whether you liked it or not - please review! I like that :)**

Tony didn't even know he remembered so many things about Ziva. He and Abby spent more than an hour sorting through vague and clear memories, filling in each others gaps. They didn't even notice Gibbs entering the building, until he cleared his throat and spoke.

'What are you two doing here so early? Are you trying to beat Zi-'

Gibbs broke off mid word. An awkward silence fell. Tony felt the conversation turn the wrong way and decided to take evasive action.

'Boss?' he said, and despised his voice for being shaky. 'Why is the letter on your desk in an evidence bag?'

Luckily, Gibbs didn't notice or pretended not to notice his temporarily weak state of mind.

'Is there?' he asked. Abby answered instead of Tony, who the question was addressed to.

'It was brought in by some kind of marine who told me to check it out carefully, but I didn't want to open your mail 'cause it would be impolite so I packed it safely in a bag so no one could get sick again, remember, and then I waited for you and Tony showed up and…'

Gibbs held his hand up to Abby, who shut in the middle of her sentence and picked the bag up from the table.

'Exiting, isn't it, mail?' Abby said, sounding like she really was exited. Tony wasn't. Ok, he was curious, but there was very little that could get him exited these days. No, he shouldn't lie to himself. There was only one thing that could get him exited. One person, actually.

Though he didn't really care, he watched closely as Abby put the envelope on the desk in her lab and opened the bag. She sniffed at it, put her ear against it and then took all kinds of samples with cue tips. Then she put them in all the buzzing machines and wove to Gibbs and to Tony. 'Get out! I'll call you as soon as I found something.'

The rest of the day, Tony read more and more old files. They started to form a wall on his desk when Fanning came in – late, as always. Like he was chosen to be everything Ziva hadn't been.

'Playing hide and seek, DiNozzo?' Fanning asked, but Tony didn't even strain himself to answer. Gibbs, who had been staring at nothing the whole time, jumped up and walked to the elevator. Tony took the excuse and followed him to Abby's lab. McGee followed Tony, Fanning only watched them go as the doors of the elevator closed.

'Has she got something?' Tony asked.

'How should I know? I'm only going to bring her a Caf-Pow'

That was probably the best conformation he was going to get, so Tony just waited for the doors to open.

And indeed, Abby was waiting for them, holding her hand out for the Caf-Pow Gibbs was carrying. Tony still didn't understand how he always got those things at the right time. She sipped at the straw first, before she lead them to the evidence table where the envelope was laid upon.

'It is totally clean.' she stated. 'Nothing on there except some really nasty stuff you always find on envelopes if you look for them. Did you know mailmen in the States have the nastiest hands compared to all other mailmen? There has been an investigation…'

'So it's safe' Gibbs interrupted her.

'Totally' Abby said proudly.

Gibbs put on a pair of gloves and carefully opened the envelope with Abby's black-and-purple paperknife. Then he took out the pile of sheets Tony had expected. The top one was a printed letter.

_Dear special agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs,_

_I'm asking for a gift which only you can give me. These men, listed below, are taken prisoner while fighting for the greater good. I want you to make sure they are released, given passports and plane tickets so they can finally come back home. _

_Yours sincerely._

There was no name. The names of five terrorist were typed underneath that letter. All of them were really big fish, Tony knew all their names. Gibbs shook his head, clearly not in the mood to release terrorists for 'the greater good'. He put the first sheet aside. Again, a typed letter.

_I know you're laughing at me now. Go on. You'll need it. There won't be much to laugh about soon enough. _

_I've got a captive here. You might happen to know her. If you try to find me, she will die the cruellest death I can imagine, and I'm pretty sure that my imagination is bigger than yours in that way. _

_If you don't do anything, she'll die the cruellest death you can imagine. Come on, try it. Sure there is enough memory to make up quite a freakshow. _

_Then, finally, if you'll be a good boy and all my men come home safely, she'll die a merciful death. Or maybe I'll even release her, who knows. I'm looking forward to see my men coming._

_Yours sincerely._

_P.S. she put down three of my men before we could knock her down. She's the strongest woman I've ever seen, and I've seen lots of them. But everybody has a breaking point, Gibbs. Even her. _

And again, no name. This seemed to be the end of the letter. Tony probably already knew by then who the unknown man was talking about, but his unconsciousness tried to push the thought away, trying to protect his sanity.

But when Gibbs put the letter aside, and a picture appeared, there was no way to deny.


	3. Chapter 3

So, here's the next chapter. Not yesterday, as promised, I'm very sorry that I did that (I should take better care of my only reviewers, my sincere apologies) but I'm very, very busy at the moment. Studying takes most of my time, so, people, I'll try, but I don't think I can keep this speed up. And all the people I know read my story, pleasepleaseplease give me a review! Bad reviews are also most welcome, as long as you tell me what I did wrong so I can change that. Sorry, to much crap about me. Let's move on to the story.

* * *

The picture was taken in a dark room. There were no windows, and the only thing inside was a silhouette of someone bound to a chair, a bowed head and the attitude was one of giving up. That confused Tony for several seconds, because that was something he had never seen on the person who belonged with the silhouette. But it was definitely her.

Gibbs also put that photo aside. The next picture was closer. Tony could see Ziva's sharp features now, through the tangled hair that covered most of her face. All the strength that had seemed to be a natural part of her, had gone. Tony could almost feel his heart crack, split and fall to the ground.

The last picture was the worst. Ziva's head was held up by her hair, she looked away like the camera frightened her. The left half of her face was swollen and red, her eye almost closed. Her always so perfectly conditioned skin was dirty and pale. There were deep circles under her eyes, her lips were cracked like those of a junky and everywhere were little cuts and scratches.

Tony heaved and ran for the men's room. Fanning called something after him, but Tony didn't hear. His ears rang and he felt sick to his stomach. He just made it to the toilet in time and puked. Then he put his sweaty head to the cold wall and closed his eyes. And all he saw was the picture. All the details, scratched into his brain like he suddenly had Ziva's photographic memory. Though his stomach was empty now, he still felt sick. Ziva. The ever-so-strong, unbeatable Ziva, captured by terrorists. It was like a bad joke. And America didn't trade. Never had, never would.

Tony raised his fist and slammed it into the wall. It didn't give in. He could imagine what Ziva would do if it had been someone else who was abducted. She would walk into the door, not caring that she was entering the mensroom, and stand in the doorway until he looked up. She would laugh at his frustration, tell him that hitting walls had no use at all. Then she would say he'd better get back to work if he wanted to end this well, and maybe even pad his back. But when Tony looked up, of course she wasn't there.

It was almost an hour later when Tony left the mensroom again. When he walked back, Fanning was not at his desk, something Tony had never seen before. He took the stairs to Abby's lab, too impatient to take the elevator. Fanning was there, as well as McGee, Gibbs, Ducky and even Palmer. Gibbs was so tensed that it looked like he would press his fingers right through Abby's desk.

Ziva was not his little girl like Abby was, but still like his daughter in many ways. Abby had been threatened once, and that had been bad, but then Gibbs just didn't let her out of his sight and jelled at some suspects with really bad luck. Now his other daughter was in danger, he couldn't wrap his arms around her, neither could he yell at someone responsible for this mess. The only thing he could do was dig his fingers into the table. It made Tony feel powerless. If there was nothing Gibbs could do, how was he supposed to be useful in some way?

When Tony entered the lab, all heads turned in his direction, except for Abby's. However, she was the only one who spoke to him. 'We'll find her, Tony. We're gonna save her. We owe her that.'

She typed something into her computer, calling something to McGee who also started to type faster than Tony had ever seen him do. Gibbs stared very intently at the screen, like he understood the codes scrolling across.

It took them almost a week. They slept in the office, not wanting to lose time, and survived on pizza and lots of coffee. Tony had never seen Abby taking in so much Caf-Pow, though she still looked tired. But it was all worth it in the end. Because they found her. Tony didn't really understand how, computerstuff, but she was found and now he could do what he was good at.

It took only fifteen minutes to pack his bags, close the apartment and type a goodbye-note to his father – in case wasn't coming back. Tony had never realised before how important Ziva was for him, as he did now.

Ziva had once said she never wanted to be captured alive – better dead than captured. With her background as one of the best assassins in the world, that was probably a good thing. He suddenly recalled a conversation about torture, long ago.

'_He was framed' Ziva says. 'Now they are torturing him for the access code'_

'_Maybe he won't talk' McGee answers._

_Ziva turns to McGee. 'Have you ever been tortured, McGee?' she asks in a low, sweet voice while studying his face. 'There's only so much torture a human body can bare.' Her voice is still sweet, almost sensual, but her words are painfully hard and true._

'_Strong men can hold up for a few days but no one lasts forever.' she continues. _

'_Not even Gibbs.' she says then, turning her strong gaze to Gibbs, who responds with a gaze just as strong. _

'_A trained interrogator can do it in less time. I can get that code in hours.' she adds, jerking her chin up a little so she can look McGee straight into his eyes. Then she turns and walks away. McGee continues staring straight forward for a while, dazzled by the images she put in his head._

She could break someone in hours… but how long would it take to break her? Would she talk? What would they want her to say? As far as Tony knew, there were no passwords or codes she knew that were any value. But if Ziva was the way she always was, stubborn and self-confident, they would probably break her just to show her they could.

The flight to Africa made Tony lose his mind. He knew he had to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, the pictures flashed by. He felt so useless, strapped to a chair, the people around him doing things to pass the time. Though there was a good movie up, he couldn't concentrate. He tried reading, but the letters danced and he had to read everything time and time again, and when he tried to remember what he had read, there was nothing inside his head, except for those pictures.

Finally, they arrived. They didn't have any bags but hand-luggage, so they could take of immediately. The local LEO's gave them a Jeep, old and dusty, but working just fine. Gibbs drove, and demanded McGee and Tony to get some sleep. Tony didn't, of course, and just stared out the window, down the deserted desert. Would she be scared? Would she still be bold, as always? Would she have begged? He couldn't imagine Ziva begging, neither could he imagine her with tear-filled eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

A really short authors note this time: enjoy and review!

* * *

The plan was simple: take everyone. Alive if possible, dead when armed. Easy. Tony felt the big semi-automatic gun on his hip shoving a little with every step. It made him feel confident. They would find her, and they would save her. Happily ever after for everyone. Except the terrorists of course.

There it was. A small base, existing from several traditional clay-houses with small windows, most of them blinded with wood and bricks. The team divided. Gibbs went through the front door, Tony to the back. McGee backed Gibbs up, they would meet in the middle and start to search from there.

Tony's blood rushed in his ears, he felt red-alert and ready for anyone. He saw Gibbs and McGee entering the central room, which was deserted. But suddenly, they were there. All around them were fully armed men, their faces covered but their eyes grim and hostile. Someone jelled in what was probably Arabic, a command or an order.

'Pull back!' Gibbs shouted to Tony, while already walking to the door, backwards. McGee was outside, when Tony saw the corridor leading to the cell in which Ziva most likely was held. This was the last chance. If they would get away now, Ziva would be dead soon. They would capture someone else, if needed, now she had become to much of a burden to them. Tony took a few steps towards the corridor. None of the terrorists moved. 'Tony!' Gibbs shouted furious. 'Get your ass out of here!'

But Tony didn't even hear. His best chance was probably to surprise them. Gibbs would take them all out, eventually. Contemplating that took only a split second and then, without thinking about the life-danger he put himself in, Tony sprinted headlong into the corridor.

He woke up some time later, when someone roughly tied his hands to his back. 'Autsh!' Tony complained, while trying to get rid of the black spots in his vision. 'That's not really necessary, you know. If I run off into the desert, I'll die of thirst anyway.'

The guy who was tying him up didn't answer. Tony wondered whether he even spoke English. He was pulled up by his wrists and complained again, though now knowing that it would not make any difference.

After being tied up like a neat package, Tony was dropped on the earth floor. As his hands and feet were tied, he couldn't catch himself and landed face-down. His nose made a nasty, cracking sound and Tony felt the warm blood flowing across his face. Luckily, it didn't feel like it was broken. Tony had broken his nose before, twice even, by being tackled in a football game. Though that was a long time ago, he knew that the feeling wasn't quite the same. That was one good thing. He was pretty sure that these guys priorities weren't in putting his nose straight, and he personally thought that crooked noses looked not so good on him.

Tony laid there for a while, not knowing what was going to happen to him. Would they kill him just now, or would they torture him first? Tony didn't really believe Gibbs would get him out of this anymore. Sometimes he looked like Superman, but these guys were much worse than Superman's opponents all together.

Finally, after an hour – or maybe two – someone entered the room again. Tony could only see his heavy, army-like boots. They stopped a few inches in front of his face. Then he was lifted up by his bonded hands, which hurt, but Tony decided to play it cool now. Maybe that worked better with these emotionless machines.

The face that belonged with the boots didn't look familiar. His eyes caught Tony's in a cold, piercing gaze. Somehow, they managed to look completely normal and half-crazed at the same time.

Then, out of nowhere, the guy hit Tony in his face. 'That was for not obeying my request' he said. Then he slammed his fist into Tony's stomach. 'That was for coming here in the first place.'

He dropped Tony on the floor again. He looked down on him for a few seconds, seeming satisfied with what he saw and then suddenly kicked Tony in the ribs, twice. Tony grunted. 'That was for not listening to your boss.'

'He prefers to slap me on the back of my head.' Tony said sarcastically. The man smiled, a cold smile, and pulled his foot backwards, to give Tony a forceful kick to his head. 'No!' Tony screamed. 'This one's for your boss then.' the man smiled.

When Tony woke up again, he was on the same floor. Apparently, they were not really concerned about loosing him, because the door was unlocked. The next thing he saw were the meanwhile familiar boots. After contemplating for a little while, Tony decided that it was probably the best to pretend he'd given up. What helped was that he kind of had, so the moaning in despair sounded very real.

The man chuckled. 'Not so strong after all, aren't you?'

'Leave me alone…' Tony moaned.

The man chuckled again. 'You want to be alone?'

'Yes…' Tony whispered, trying to sound even more hopeless than he felt.

'Too bad.' The man said. 'You seem not to have noticed who's the boss around here.'

'You are…' Tony moaned into the floor.

'That's what you say, but it doesn't seem to have reached you fully yet.' Tony now noticed that his English was strongly accented and the stress marks were put in a weird way. His accent was a mixture of British and Arabic, which made a strange combination. The word-order was also pretty bad, but Tony reminded himself just in time that he was pretending to have surrendered. Not that he really had a choice, but it made him feel better to pretend, because that made it seem like it was not as worse as he pretended it to be.

'I'll show you who's in charge here. Maybe it will finally get to you' the man said. He kicked Tony, again and again, until the world went black for the third time in barely a day.


	5. Chapter 5

Though the number of people reading today really dissapointed me, I'll publish a new chapter. I mean, I don't want to be spoiled, but I didn't even have one eighth of the readers I had on the lowest day untill now, and only one review, despite the upgoing numbers. So people, I hope it's temporarily :) And I've still got faith in you! So please, please, please read and review (yes, I'm a little desperate, sorry for that)

* * *

When Tony woke up again, the first thing he registered was the pain. Every square inch of his body hurt, and had to be more purple and blue than his normal skin colour. This time, his moaning was real.

Some seconds after the pain, the memories came. Fuzzy and vague, he remembered the desert, the car, the plane. He remembered Gibbs, the men surrounding them, and he tried to think of the reason for all that. What case had they been working on again? Which terrorists had they pissed of?

He tried to think back, to the last normal day. It had been dark, and pretty early, he suddenly recalled. Flashes of memory. Abby, making him jump. A brown envelope. Tony frowned. That envelope was important, it was the crux of the matter. But what was in it? He didn't know.

Another flash. The lab. Abby, Gibbs, McGee and himself standing around Abby's desk. The envelope again. A letter. Photo's. The feeling of despair. But still, Tony couldn't nail what exactly was going on. He frowned again, annoyed by his far-from-perfect memory.

While Tony was still trying to see through the misty boundaries created by his loss of consciousness time and time again, the boots-man entered the room again. This time he didn't speak, nor did he slap or kick Tony. He just pulled Tony upwards, and made him hop out of the room. Tony fell twice – it's hard to walk when your feet are bound together – and was roughly put on his feet again by the boots-man.

Tony was still trying to figure out what important part he was missing, because he obviously was. He noticed a door opening in front of him, and suddenly he was tossed in and the door was closed behind him. Locked, this time.

So it was really over now. This room was what you'd imagine a terrorist-prison like. The other room had been lit fairly well by a TL-lamp and small windows. These windows were blinded, and the only light came from a barely functioning light bulb, which made a circle on the floor. Tony heard the heavy footsteps die away, and then it was perfectly silent. Or wasn't it?

Tony pricked up his ears. Yes, it was really there. The breathing of another human, slow and shallow.

'Hello?' Tony whispered. He wished he knew some Arabic. Why had he never studied that? A memory rose up.

'_Arabic is very useful. You come across it a lot.' Ziva noted, while being on hold by someone who owed her a favour. She never seemed to run out of them._

'_Sure' Tony said sarcastically, but Ziva didn't listen. The person was back again and conversated with Ziva in quick Arabic, or something that sounded like it._

_A few minutes later, she put the phone down. 'Yes. It is.' she said._

_Tony rolled his eyes. 'Why would I learn it? You already do, so I'll call you whenever I need to speak Arabic.'_

_Now it was Ziva's turn to roll her eyes. 'And you think I would show, just because you're not smart enough to learn it?'_

'_Yes.' Tony answered with a wicked grin._

_Ziva sighed. 'I could teach you. Though it would probably be hard for you, in a few months, you would be able to speak basic Arabic.' _

_Tony was exited by the idea of him and Ziva, in her apartment, sitting close together while she taught him unknown notes. But his pride didn't allow him to accept the offer. 'I'll teach myself. I'm sure those online-courses teach me faster than you do.' _

_Ziva smiled. 'We'll see.'_

Of course, he'd never taken the course. Once a lazy man, always a lazy man. It took just too much…

Tony suddenly sat up straight, and bumped his head against the clay wall. That was it, the crux, the clue he'd been looking for. Ziva.

The person in the shadows was forgotten instantly, when Tony's mind started to work on top speed, to recover all the forgotten memories. The photo's, the search, the attack, he remembered all of it again. And it made him feel desperate, because she had even less chance of getting out of here alive as he had. And his chance was very, very close to zero.

'You… you… you!' Tony shouted, not able to find words terrible enough for these monsters. The person in the corner started to sob. Tony had totally forgotten about him. Or her. It probably was a her, from the sound of the sobbing. Maybe a little boy. Tony moved closer, just a little bit, trying not to scare the person. 'It's alright.' he whispered. 'I'm not going to hurt you. Sssh…'

He could see the silhouette of the person now. It was a girl, and she was curled up in fetal position, both her arms protecting her head. What had they done to her… Tony thought. How could they. It was a little girl, for crying out loud. He moved closer, wanting to help, to comfort, to do something. The girl made all his protective instincts flare, but he was still tied up, not even able to put his arms around her. Oh, he hated being so powerless!

After a lot of soothing words, of which Tony wasn't sure she even understood them, the sobbing began to slow, until the silence almost returned: her breathing was close to unhearable. He now sat close to the girl, but was careful not to touch her. Who knew what traumas she already had.

The girl dropped one of her arms, which had covered her face, an inch or two. Through dirty, knotted pieces of hair, brown eyes looked at him. Familiar brown eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Wow, I was kind of overwhelmed by all the support I got after all :) And that lack of readers was because my personal part of this site crashed a few times yesterday. I hope it doens't now so you can all read, enjoy and review my next chapter. Have fun!

* * *

Tony was shocked. He knew this girl, no, this woman. He knew everything about her. 'Ziva!' he shouted, in surprise but also in horror. Ziva put her arm protectively over her head again and cringed away from him.

Tony couldn't comfort her. Not immediately. He was so startled, so shocked. She had looked like hell in the pictures but it was nothing compared to how she looked now. She seemed to be so much smaller, and she was so thin. Thinner than professional gymnastics, thinner than runway models. The thing he could best compare her to were the malnutritioned kids you saw in commercials for African charities. Her skin stretched tight over her fragile-looking bones and her eyes lay deep in there sockets. Scared eyes who looked tired of just existing. The phrase 'giving up' was a big understatement in this case and even surrender didn't fully cover it.

'Ziva…' Tony whispered. 'Ziva, Ziva, what have they done to you, oow, Ziva…' He wanted to hug her close but found that he was still bound.

'Ziva?' he asked. 'Ziva, can you try to loosen these ropes, just a little? Just try, alright?' She was still holding both her arms over her head and didn't respond to anything Tony had said.

'Ziva?' Tony asked. 'It's me. Tony. Remember? Very special agent Anthony DiNozzo, senior field agent on your team, remember? Ziva…'

She didn't move. He heard how her breath sped again, and saw her torso shake when the violent sobs started to radiate through her. And again, the feeling of being powerless overwhelmed Tony. 'Ssssh…' he tried to sooth her.

It took longer this time for her to stop crying, though you could hardly call it crying: it was just taking in sharp, irregular breaths and shaking so violently Tony thought her shoulder blades would break through her skin. 'Sssh… it's going to be alright,' Tony kept saying and found himself singing a bedtime song his mother sang to him when he was a child. While wondering why he remembered that, he kept on singing, not failing to notice that Ziva calmed down and finally settled into sleep – or unconsciousness, Tony wasn't sure. She didn't snore, which was probably a bad sign, but she did relax her arms and folded them under her head.

That gave Tony the opportunity to study her face properly without offending or scaring her. He tried to asses her as a doctor would do. He scanned the bruises, trying to see through the swollen parts. But he wasn't a doctor, so his only conclusion was that she was in the worst shape he had ever seen a human being in. Except the dead in Ducky's morgue of course, but even some of them looked better then Ziva looked right now. They matched in colour, for one thing. Ziva's usually bronze skin was closest to gray as far as Tony could see with the little light from the light bulb.

Studying Ziva's face for a while, Tony noticed his thoughts getting fuzzy and his lids getting heavy. It was not like he hadn't slept enough in the last couple of days – well, he'd missed quit some sleep working around the clock for a week – but he felt really tired. It was probably the lack of food. Idly, he wondered when, and if, they would get any food anytime soon. He tried to remember to ask Ziva. She must have had some food, because even she couldn't survive without it for the months she must have been captured.

Tony fell asleep shortly after that with his head leaning against the clay wall. He slept very lightly and woke up with a shock when he felt something on wrists. When he looked up, he saw how Ziva who had been kneeling down behind his back, rolled up into a ball again. Tony sighed. She was like the lizards he'd liked to catch as a child: one move and they were gone, deep into their hiding holes. He had sat on the stones in front of the villa for hours, waiting for the lizards to come back. Mostly his father would call him for dinner and cause the lizards to run away again, just when they were close enough.

Some time later, when Ziva had dropped her arms from her face again but was still rolled up, Tony decided to give it another try.

'Ziva?' he asked. She answered by turning her big, brown eyes to him.

'Would you mind trying again? To loosen the ties, you know?' Ziva didn't answer. Tony saw how the muscles of her back tensed.

'No, you don't have to get up. I'll lie down. Give me a sec.' Tony said. It was weird, talking without really getting an answer. It was like talking to himself in some ways, on of the signs of mental disorder he sometimes had encountered. That seemed like a long time ago now.

As promised, Tony turned and laid on his side. A very uncomfortable position with tied hands, but he didn't complain. He had seen how even trying to sit up cost her more energy than she had left to use.

He felt how Ziva's hands danced light as feathers across his palms and wrists. She let them rest every once in a while, and Tony started to think she wouldn't be able to make it when he felt the rope loosen.

'Ziva, I'm going to free my hands now.' he warned her, afraid she'd curl up like a snail again. He sat up and wrestled his way free, out of the bounds. When they were out, he rubbed his hands together for a moment, than started to free his feet. The sudden rush of blood through his cut off arteries was painful and for a moment, Tony cringed.

Then, he was finally able to do what he'd wanted to do since he came her. He pulled Ziva close to him and put both his arms very carefully around her. He felt her muscles tighten for a moment, and then relax. 'You're safe now, Ziva' he whispered into her ear.

They fell asleep like that. Ziva was half on Tony's lap with her head leaning against his chest. Tony sat with his back against the wall while his head rested on Ziva's. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, it would have made a beautiful and peaceful picture.


	7. Chapter 7

Oh, it's so easy sometimes: read, enjoy, review! Reviews make my day, and suggestions of any kind are welcome :)

* * *

They were woken by heavy footsteps in the corridor. Ziva didn't roll herself up this time, but hid her face in Tony's chest. She shook, with fear Tony assumed, and he could feel her breathing quicken. 'Calm, Ziva. Maybe they'll go elsewhere.' he tried to comfort her. But they didn't, of course. Ziva was almost sobbing again, and Tony held his breath when the key turned in the lock. 'Sssh…' he said to Ziva, but it wasn't convincing, as he was almost as scared as she was. Only partially for himself, because if they could make Ziva like she was now, it would be easy to break him, but his biggest concern was what they would do to her. He couldn't protect her, weak from lack of sleep and food, without any weapons or backup.

So when the door opened, Tony grabbed both Ziva's hands. She looked up into his eyes for a short moment, then hid behind his torso again, her small frame still shaking.

A man stood in the doorway. Tony couldn't see his face, because the light from the corridor made him look like a shadow.

'Rice. To eat.' the man said in broken English. Tony nodded, though the man probably couldn't see that. He pulled Ziva off his lap and stood up. His knees didn't feel too stable, but he wasn't going to crawl, that was for sure. So he walked across the small cell, and picked up both the bowls of rice the man had set on the floor.

'If she want, she take.' the man said. Tony didn't understand, so pretended not to hear.

'Only for you.' the man said then. 'If she want rice, she come.' Now Tony did understand, but he still kept on walking. The man was in front of him in a flash and tackled him in a way Tony assumed he must have been a footballer. The bowls of rice flew through the air as in slow motion, and Tony watched how all the separate grains were launched and fell onto the ground. He ducked, trying to sweep some rice into his cupped hands. Ziva needed the food, even when it was combined with sand and dust.

But a boot crashed down on one of his hands. 'You be bad, no food.' the man said. Tony winced. 'Ok, ok, just take your foot of my hand.'

The man did, but when Tony pulled his hand away he crushed the rice into the sand of the floor. He put two cups of water on the ground. This time, Tony was smart enough to pick only one. And he did crawl, after all, back to Ziva.

Three bowls of rice and probably a few days later, Tony really started to worry about Ziva. Of course, he had been worrying all along, but now it became clearer and clearer that her prospect was very bad. She kept losing consciousness and seemed to forget vital things like where she was, who he was and even her own name slipped away sometimes, though she tried to hide that fact. Tony could barely force her to drink some water every now and then, and chewing the rice had become an unconquerable task. He gave her a maximum of five days, and wondered whether it would hurt to die of starvation. It would hurt seeing her die, that was one thing that was sure.

While Tony was thinking about all this, a man came in with a bowl of water. Tony stood – he could still manage that, but it took more effort every single time – and walked up to him. Then he took the bowl and walked back to Ziva again. The man locked the door behind him, and Tony heard the heavy footsteps fade.

'Ziva?' he asked. She didn't look up. Tony tried to prop her up so he could pour some of the water into her mouth. He didn't really succeed, because he heard her moan and didn't want to go further. Her ribs were probably broken, but, Tony thought wryly, she wouldn't feel that very much longer. Pretty soon, she wouldn't feel anything anymore. Maybe that was better. Maybe he had to stop his feeble tries to keep her alive, to shorten the process.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor again, interrupting Tony's train of thoughts. He sat up, and watched anxiously at the door. The footsteps were too quick, somebody there was angry. That was not good.

The door opened with a bang. Tony felt Ziva wake up and held her down with his one hand. It would be better if she pretended not to be there.

'Tell me!' the man said. Tony recognised his voice. It was the boots-man again. He cringed from the memories.

'Tell me!' the man shouted again. Before, he'd sounded smug, but now he was downright furious.

'Tell you what?' Tony asked cautiously.

The man seemed to grow bigger in his anger. 'Tell me when they are coming!'

'Who?' Tony asked. As far as he knew, no one was coming. Not for him at least. But a small sparkle of hope enlightened, despite everything that had happened. It was just a spark, and it didn't find a lot of flammable surroundings, but it was there.

'Tell me!' the man shrieked.

'I don't know' Tony said, which was totally true. But you didn't have to be a mind reader to see that the man didn't believe him. He walked up to Tony, even his stride was angry, and grabbed Ziva's arm. She was only half awake, but her eyes flew open when the man tossed her against the wall.

'Speak!' the man demanded, turning to Tony again.

'I don't know!' Tony said again, though scared now. The man turned back to Ziva. When he took her hand, it was almost a gentle movement. But the sickening crack and Ziva's whimper weren't gently at all. The man had broken Ziva's little finger and now held her ring finger.

'Tell me when they are coming, who they are bringing and what their strategy is.' he said in a low, threatening voice.

'I don't know!' Tony shouted. Another crack, another whimper. He could see how Ziva's face twisted in pain. He didn't want her to end like this.

'Please… I have no clue. They haven't told me anything.' he pleaded. A third crack, this time from Ziva's middle finger, was louder than the foregoing. Her whimper was more like a cry this time.

'One more chance.' the man said. 'When are they coming!' He started softly but ended shouting.

'I – don't – know!' Tony yelled. A fourth crack was his answer. Now Ziva really cried out in pain, and started to sob when the cry died away.

Tony wanted to run to her, to hold her close and wipe her tears away. But the man was still there, looking angry and holding Ziva's thumb.

'Ok, ok!' Tony yelled. 'I'll tell you!' The man looked up. Tony tried to think as quickly as possible. What day was it now? The plane had landed in Africa October the 5th. They had attacked the base the same day. But how long had he been captured? A week? Four days? Eight?

'The 17th of October, they are coming. My team, a SEAL-team and a handful of local LEO's. They will come at nightfall.' Tony said, the words tumbling over each other. He just hoped that they would be rescued – or die – before that date.

'Let her go now.' he added, though he wasn't in the position to make requests. Surprisingly enough, the man let go of Ziva's hand. With an annoyed grunt, he kicked her in the ribs. She fell over and didn't move. Then, the man turned and walked out the door, locking it behind himself.


	8. Chapter 8

At first, my sincere apologies for the people who've been faithfully keeping track of my story, found an alert in their mailbox but didn't find a new chapter. I can blame the computer, because that mostly is to blame, but now it's on me. For I had been reading untill past midnight, and then suddenly saw that the date was even again - as you might have noticed, I always post on even dates. So I posted, and then realised that it only was even because it had been midnight. So I deleted the chapter, to correct my mistake. And I did that because I am running out of stock (I mostly have a chapter or 3 to spare) and time, as the following days/weeks are going to be very busy. And again, I'm sorry.  
This is about the longest Authors Note I've ever written, so I'll stop, and hope very much you still keep track and still feel like reviewing. I put a little from a next chapter (10) in to make up for it. And no, I'm not going to assure you that they'll all survive. Just read and be patient ;)

* * *

'Ziva?' Tony asked. No answer.

'Ziva?' he asked again. It was not like he expected her to say something. She never had, in all the time they had been in this room. But he did hope she would react in some way: sit up, look at him or make some kind of sound.

When she didn't move, Tony crawled to her. The fingers of her right hand were sticking out in crooked angles, and some blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. Tony put his ear close to her face. Her breathing was low, and irregular. Not good. Than he checked her pulse. That too was shallow and sometimes skipped a beat. Tony groaned.

'Ziva…' he said, more to himself than to anyone else. 'There really is no point in me being here if you die, you know? Then there wouldn't even have been a point of me going here, and dying here. I would have found a better way to die if I had known this would end like this. Jump off the Golden Gate or something. The view would have been better for one. So please, don't die! Alright? You heard the boots-man, he was pretty sure there were people coming for us. Just hang on for a couple days. I know you can do that. Do it for me, please?'

Tony looked down on Ziva's face. Barely anything of the woman he knew was there. Her pretty skin, her cupido-formed lips, her big, bright eyes, her shiny hair, had all become grey, dull and broken in one way or the other. But what he missed most in her, what made her look like a stranger was the absence of her self-confidence, that had been such a natural part of her.

'You know, when you first walked in the office, you scared the hell out of me.' Tony continued. He needed to keep on talking, to keep reality from hitting him. It would, in the end, but he had always been good at postponing bad things. Maybe he could postpone it so far that it wouldn't happen anymore, like homework.

'I'd never seen a girl so confident, so sure. That's one thing that comes with being an assassin by upbringing, I guess. You don't have to worry about what people think of you, because you know that when they act in some way you don't approve of, you just kill them and nobody will ever find out. But I like to think that you discovered that that way of looking at people wasn't the right way and that you learned the values of love, trust and faith. When I feel really great, I even like to think I helped you with that. But that is, of course, a load of crap.'

Tony sighed. There was so much to be said. All that could have been, all that never would be. And even now, in the most hopeless situation he had ever been in, he didn't have the damn guts to say the words who had always been there but were never spoken aloud. They were on the tip of his tongue, those words who had been floating around for so long, looking forward to the day they would become real. Tony wanted to say them, they pushed against his lips as water against a dam. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He looked down on the girl in his arms, once the prettiest he had ever met, now just a shadow of all she'd been. What was left of her beneath all the bruises and cuts? Tony just prayed he would ever find out, but wasn't very hopeful. He could barely hear Ziva's breath and had to lean in to hear just the slightest sound of it.

'Just keep on breathing, alright? I'll take care of the rest. Just live, and everything will be fine. Come on Ziva, hold on!'

Suddenly, there was sound all around them, disturbing Tony's monologue. The sound of heavy engines, the sound of boots, but also the sound of sharp Arabic commands and gunshots. It was nothing like the training that was held every now and then: a command followed by five shots, over and over again. These shots were random, as were the commands. People yelled, Tony heard someone scream in pain or fear.

The sounds came closer and closer. He could now hear another language that didn't have the same pitch as Arabic. Was it English? No, probably not. Tony's sparkle of hope had faded away quickly, though to Ziva he tried to pretend he still believed in a good outcome. He didn't know whether she bought it. She had always seemed like a living lie detector to him, but so much of what she had been wasn't there anymore.

Now, the sounds were all around. Tony saw Ziva's eyelids flutter and open in the end. They were wide and filled with fright like those of a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He put her head in his lap and very carefully swiped the blood out of the corner of her mouth. Then he caressed her hair, over and over again. He saw how her eyelids grew heavy again, only to flew open as heavy boots are suddenly marching down the corridor that lead to their cell. Panic is in her eyes, but Tony's eyes are filled with it too. To him, it sounded like death coming. A tune from a movie he couldn't place suddenly popped up in his head.

Ziva started to sob, something she hadn't done in a few days. Tony figured she had simply been too drained for that. For a moment not caring about her broken ribs, her concussion, broken fingers and other injuries, he pulled her onto his lap and threw both his arms around her. Ziva's sobbing suddenly slowed. She raised her head to his ear, and with a voice cracked and hoarse, she whispered: 'I am so sorry.'

Tony didn't say she shouldn't apologize because she wasn't to blame, or that apologizing was a sign of weakness. He just held her, while the boots came closer and closer to the door.

The footsteps – at least two pairs, five at the max – slowed and finally stopped. Their talking was muffled by the thick wooden door. Then that also stopped.

Tony put one hand behind Ziva's head, like she was a baby. 'Close your eyes.' he whispered. 'And imagine the most beautiful thing you can imagine. Soon, it will all be over.' He didn't specify 'it' because that would only confront them with the hard and sad truth. Not what they needed right now.

So Tony followed his own advice, closed his eyes and imagined. He imagined Ziva like she had been before, caught in a moment of sudden joy, for whatever reason. Her eyes bright, her smile real, pushing away the sadness that was always in her eyes for just a moment. That was the picture he wanted to hold onto for as long as he lived – as short as that might be.

In the corridor, he heard someone count. Then the door opened with a bang and slammed against the clay wall. Tony had his eyes still shut, not wanting to see the end coming, only focussing on the picture in his head.


	9. Chapter 9

My number of readers is going up way faster than I though probable. That makes me really happy :) And if you have found 4 alerts in your inbox for chapter 8, I'm sorry, I just can't figure out how to get this site to work the way I want it too. I'm starting to suspect my computer just really doesn't like me.  
Anyway, this chapter is different from others, not only because it's another point of view, but also because it contains a load of heavy emotions, so prepare ;) And it's kind of vague, so if you don't understand something, please ask :)  
And, as always: read, enjoy, review!

* * *

She knew. She had know all along. It was a feeling, far away, buried by trust, by love, by hope and ratio. But it was there. It had always been there. And she should have known better.

It had suddenly flared, that night, so many nights ago now. When he was sleeping and breathing deeply, and her head rested on his chest, moving up and down. She'd lain awake for hours, trying to ignore the feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that something was terribly wrong. She knew what was. Maybe not consciously, but in the back of her mind, she knew. And she shouldn't have smothered the feeling with the security and love she felt when she was around him. But she had, and now it was too late.

The feeling had risen again, when she saw the two of them. Her beloved one, killed by… by who? Her friend? Her partner? Her safe harbour? Or her nothing? Who did she owe? Did she owe anyone, or did they both owe her?

Those questions, they were all wrong. She knew the answers, had already known them back then, but it already was the wall, starting to form. She should have known. She could have known. She had known the moment she saw them. All her fears, buried so deep, had broken through. And instead of being frightened by them, she got angry. Mostly at herself, but sometimes, the rest of the world seemed just as bad. And Tony, the poor guy, mostly was the subject of her anger. Despite the fact that he'd done nothing wrong, despite the fact that he'd still got her back, despite the fact that he still tried to reason with her, after all what happened and after all she had done. She had never deserved someone like him to be part of her life.

She had left then. One of the few good things she had done, was staying in Israel, where she couldn't hurt Tony anymore. Though it hadn't really been her decision, it had been Gibbs' choice to leave her. She deserved no credit of that action.

But even back in Israel, the anger kept on running. Her father, the few friends she had in Tel Aviv, her co-workers, they all suffered from her anger. The anger had become a wall between her and the overwhelming sadness she felt, and the rest of the world. But it wasn't a wall of fire, as you would expect from something that originated in anger. It was a wall of ice. Cold, hard, and sharp, but also beautiful. You could see the wall in the way she walked, the way she spoke, in little movements like how she held her head when listening. The wall made sure nobody came close enough to see the rivers of sadness, loneliness and betrayal in her eyes.

She knew that Gibbs would have seen. He wouldn't have been scared by a massive wall, he would just fight his way through. She knew that was one reason why he had left her. He wanted her to break her own wall. But she couldn't. She just felt that if that wall broke, all the parts of her being that had been dissolved by tears would flow away and she would be an empty shell. She couldn't let that happen. Not yet.

So she joined the Kidon unit, perfect for someone with her training. But she now knew why she had felt so good at NCIS. They only killed if there was no other option, and regretted it when they had to, sometimes lifelong. The other persons on the Kidon unit had no problems with killing. They made jokes about it, and she could see that some people even really enjoyed it. It made her sick. And at the same time she knew she had been like that. She had lived without giving the human life the value she now knew it had. But it wasn't something that grew back, though she did get used to killing again. It had been part of her life for so long, that it was uncomfortably easy. Death had played a vital part in her life and in her process of becoming the person she now was.

That had started long ago. First, it had been her best friend Mustafa, a Muslim boy who lived next doors. They had both been twelve, and his death had changed Ziva's perspective on life. From then on she had known she wanted to fight against people like the bomber who killed Mustafa, which her father of course had encouraged.

The second death, and probably the one with the biggest impact, was the death of her mother. As the wife of the Mossad deputy director she had a target on her forehead, but refused to act like it. She was shot by a sniper when Ziva was fifteen. That didn't just meant that Ziva lost her biggest support, but she also had to take care of her baby sister after that. Tali's death barely three years later, had inflicted her ever since, because Ziva felt like she hadn't taken good enough care of her.

Those deaths had made her collapse and each of them had taken a piece of her with them. But everyone she lost after that, friends, collegues, neighbours, the list was endless, caused less tears. Until in the end there were barely any tears left for Michael, her support and link to her past when she had been happy and carefree.

Now, death was part of her life again. She loathed it, but it also made it easier to keep the wall up to the outside world. Though she still cried herself to sleep.

The assignment concerning the camp in Somalia had come at exactly the right time. At first, her father asked her to be the supervisor, but she begged him to put her in the field. Well, of course she didn't literally beg. No way that could go through the wall. She asked him, which was uncommon as she mostly just demanded whatever she wanted.

The job contained the right amount of danger – a chance of less than 50 per cent to live through, and was difficult enough to keep her mind of other things. From then, she was focused on surviving twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. She liked it that way. Every minute of her day was filled with suspicion, fear – but not hers – and danger. Her co-workers saw her revive. This was what she was good at, what she had been born – or raised? – to do. But she still cried herself asleep.

And then, she had gotten captured. That they kicked her around the room and hit her just for the fun of it didn't matter to her. She deserved to be punished, for all the things that she'd done, all the people she'd killed or hurt. She never complained, as Mossad taught her. Neither did she grant them any information. And when the men got more violent every time, she told herself that she had brought this on herself. No one escapes their faith in the end.

She'd weakened, but tried to stay alive by eating the little food they got her. Others would probably starved themselves. Not her. There had been far to little punishment.

And then, Tony had come. Her guardian angel. He had come for her, and had been beaten up pretty badly for that. When she recognized his voice, it was the first time she cried since… since how long? Weeks? Months? He had come for her. After all they had been through, all she had done, he had come for her. And now they were going to die together. She had never deserved someone like Tony.


	10. Chapter 10

A short chapter this time, because there really was no better place to cut it off. I hope you enjoy, as I wasn't really satisfied myself. Please tell me what to improve! And don't forget to review ;)

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'Tony!' somebody yelled. 'Tony! Are you alright?'

Tony didn't react. The worst was still to come. Death would take him soon, and a coward as he was, he wasn't going to stare it in the eye. He like the picture in his head way more to stay on his vision forever, or longer. Maybe, he was already dead. Maybe that was why the voice was so familiar; weren't you supposed to meet everyone you had ever loved in heaven? Tony was not sure he had deserved heaven, though he had done some pretty great things in his life. Like saving lives. But he had also destroyed some, and had done some pretty stupid things over the years. Not to speak about the hearts he'd broken. Well, he would find out soon enough. If such a thing as time existed in death.

'Tony?' the voice said, closer to him now. Someone tugged on his arm which was wrapped around Ziva. He felt how his grip on her was broken as he didn't have the strength left to hold onto her. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. And blinked. In front of him, dusty but easily recognizable, was Gibbs.

'Boss.' Tony said.

'Tony.' Gibbs answered.

It took a moment before Tony's brain started to work again. But the feeling of safety was instant. That just couldn't be death. It was stupid, but the feeling was undoubtable. Gibbs carefully freed Ziva from Tony's grasp and took her in his arms. That made Tony wake from his fuzzy state of mind.

'Careful, boss.' he said, and heard for the first time how cracked his voice sounded. 'She's got a concussion, broken ribs, bruises everywhere and the fingers of her right hand are broken.'

Gibbs just nodded and looked at Ziva with a look Tony couldn't place. It was… tender and loving but worried and anxious at the same time. He shook his head. He'd think about that later. Now, he just wanted the feeling of safety to overwhelm him. And he wanted to eat. A lot.

McGee put his arm round Tony's waist, and put Tony's arm around his own shoulders. 'Can you walk?' McGee asked. Tony hesitated. But before he could form an answer, someone else – Tony was quit happy it wasn't Fanning – pulled his other arm around his shoulders and the three of them followed Gibbs out the door.

Standing straight made Tony dizzy, and his knees gave out for a moment. McGee and the other man stopped. 'Can you make it?' McGee asked. Tony nodded weakly, and straightened his knees.

Before them walked Gibbs with Ziva in his arms. Her legs and head bounced with every step. After a few steps, Gibbs cupped his hand to her head and placed it to his chest so he wouldn't cause her even more pain. The movement remembered Tony that he had been a father, and a good one, probably. But his dazzled and starved mind didn't go far enough for him to conclude anything out of that. That was for later days.

Tony saw how Gibbs put Ziva in a car which looked vaguely familiar, and then was helped into another one himself. They drove away from the cottage like it was nothing, but Tony felt like he left a part of him there. Something like his sanity, for example.

While sprawling in the sand-coloured car seat, Tony tried to keep a visual on the car in front of them. The gap in between was becoming bigger and bigger, partly because it was Gibbs driving and partly because he had the newest Jeep – which was already dusty, like everything seemed to be out here.

Tony had a hard time opening his eyes again and again, and finally decided that he could skip opening them, for a second or so. She wouldn't disappear in that little time. And as soon as he closed his eyes for more than a split second, the world faded into the colourful world of dreams.

When Tony woke up, he was lying on a rusty iron bed with clean, bright coloured blankets. Next to him, in a bed just the same, maybe even rustier, lay a child. It wasn't older than a year or six and gave him a look with its wise, dark brown eyes only a child can give. Then she – Tony assumed it was a she, because she had long braided hair – turned her head to the incoming nurse. The bright coloured beads in her braids that matched the blanket made a ticking noise. She asked something to the nurse in a language Tony didn't understand nor recognize. The nurse, a big black woman in a crispy white uniform answered in a reassuring tone.

'And there is our hero of today.' she said, while, walking to Tony's bed. Her English was strongly accented in a typical African way, but not hard to understand.

'Where am I?' Tony blurred out without even thinking over the possibilities.

'In a hospital in Somalia, my dear.' the nurse said. 'Don't worry, you'll be fine. I'm going to check you out right now.'

And so she did. She pressed on his sprained ribs, checked his reflexes, temperature and more, while Tony winces were being scrutinized by the child with the braids. Without mentioning what she had found or hadn't found, she walked away, only to come back with a nutrition-bar and an iron cup of water. She pushed both into his hands and walked away again, leaving Tony in the African hospital room, with no idea of what just had happened and no one but the child with the braids, who continued to stare.

So there was nothing else to do than eating the nutrition bar and drinking the water, though Tony felt slightly uncomfortable with the kid still watching him. But the food was too attractive, as was the water, so he ate it quickly and with the feeling of being full that had been unknown for too long, came the need of sleep. Just before his eyes snapped shut, Tony wondered where the rest of the team was. Probably with Ziva. Ziva. Ziva. The name filled his head, and soon, it also filled his dreams.


	11. Chapter 11

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates that - I don't, but I've got our national holiday on the 5th of december coming so there is plenty to do. I don't expect my mailbox to be stuffed with reviews in the morning, it's Thanksgiving after all and that's supposed to be a familything, right? But if you do read this, please give me a little review. Just a little one, and I'll be glad (:

* * *

Tony was happy to get out of the helicopter that had flown them back to DC. The pounding noise had denied him sleep the entire flight and had given him a headache. For several hours, he had been watching how Ziva tossed, turned and sobbed in her sleep. He had been strapped to a chair, while Gibbs had spent those hours sitting on Ziva's bedside, stroking her still tangled hair and musing calming words into her ear. It had given him the thought of Gibbs as a father again and for some erratic reason, he had suddenly wanted Gibbs to be his own father.

They had been transported to the hospital by ambulance, Ziva's with sirens, Tony's without. The other ambulance was quickly out of sight, as all the cars made way. Tony's ambulance hoovered behind. He hadn't seen her while he was thoroughly checked out by a young, blond nurse. Her badge told him her name was Angela and she smiled at him with a slightly sensual edge. All of that was registered somewhere in Tony's brain, but he didn't act like it as he usually would.

She opened his shirt for him, and when she listened to his heart and lungs, her fingertips lingered just a little bit too long on his bare chest. The message did come in now, but it was like a phonecall during a thunderstorm, most of it was unintelligible. Confused, Tony looked up at her. She stared back into his green eyes with her big brown ones. But they didn't have the depth that Tony expected them to have and longed for, so he turned his gaze away, disappointed.

When she was done, and gave him a card with an appointment for the next day – another check, they probably thought he was made of porcelain – she asked if there was anything else she could do for him, and the stress on anything was so overdone that it was consciously noticed by Tony. He gave her a puzzled look, and after a few seconds, his face brightened in understanding, then fell.

'No, I'll be fine.' he said, and wondered what was going on with him. Was it the hospital-scenery and scrubs that were bringing back bad memories, or was it that he was still not really recovered from the lack of food? Or maybe, just maybe, something else that had nothing to do with one of those?

Tony jumped off the table, trying to behave like his normal tough self, but had to catch himself on that same table. His knees were still a little unstable which made Tony feel very vulnerable. Oh, he wanted to get home, get a hot shower, a big pizza, a good movie and a soft bed. There was just one thing that needed to be done first.

After spelling her name three times – 'Daahveed, written just like david, dee-aa-vee-ee-dee. Yes, like the-star-of. No, not with tee-ah. Like Delta-Alpha-Victor-India-Delta. That's right. Zeehvaah. With a zee. No, not a wy. How many tortured mossad-liason officers do you have in here?' – Tony finally discovered where he should look for her, and found the right elevator not long after that. Gibbs was sitting on a typical plastic hospital-chair next to a closed door, staring a hole into the soft-yellow wall facing him.

'Is she in there?' Tony asked, wondering why Gibbs wasn't with her. Was she all alone now?

'Still in surgery.' Gibbs said, without taking his gaze off the wall. A pause followed.

'You need to get home.' Gibbs then said.

'I need to see her.' Tony contradicted.

'Tomorrow. She'll be out anyway.'

There was no way to argue, but Tony still felt like it. It wasn't like he wanted to see her, he needed to see her, to make sure that she was fine.

'I'll drive you home.' Gibbs said, reading his thoughts as he always did. That was one thing that hadn't changed.

'I am perfectly capable of driving myself home.' Tony said, still feeling like a stubborn child.

'You've got no car.'

'I can call a cab.'

'You've got no phone.'

And when Tony interjected that he could borrow one: 'You've got no money.'

Finally, Tony gave in. It was all true, after all. He had practically nothing, except the clothes the hospital had given him, ill-fitting and itchy. And he did want to go home.

Not long after that, he reached for his spare key hidden behind the ugly golden house number and finally opened his very own door.

'Thanks for dropping me, boss.' Tony called after the grey-haired man who was already walking back to his car again. Gibbs gave him a nod, and slammed the car door shut before racing back in the direction they had come.

Tony had imagined coming home many times. Seeing all his stuff, all the memories caught up in them, had seemed like the ultimate way to make him feel better. Now he was there, at home, and it felt so empty. Like you walk into a house were a bunch of kids used to live that always filled the house with their high voices, and suddenly they're all gone, leaving the house quiet as grave.

It had to be the fatigue, Tony thought, while gathering some food – a microwave pizza, a quarter of a gallon of coke and a half package of cookies – and putting on a movie. He took a long, hot shower, not caring at all about the CO2 he would produce, and felt how some of his worries washed away with the water. His shoulders finally relaxed and by the time he got out, he could smell the burned pizza in the microwave. Great. Now he was down to cookies and coke. He did eat all of them, though they were old, and when he leaped into his very own bed, it didn't matter that the film was one of his favourites. Sleep took him the moment his head hit the pillow.

He woke up from the bright light, shining through his window – last night he hadn't taken the effort to close the curtains. His clock revealed that it was seven in the morning and strangely enough, he was wide awake. Tony took another shower because he still felt like the sand was everywhere and decided to eat out today. He had a stack of spare money somewhere, for emergencies like this. Somewhere, yes. But where?

Over thirty minutes later, he found it in an empty dvd-box of Speed. He had three copies of it, just in case, and had apparently once decided that two would still suffice. A cab was called with an old cell phone, also stuffed into the back of a drawer for emergencies, and Tony was on his way.

Not long after that, he got breakfast and a big cup of coffee at Starbucks. Oh, he had missed that. The coffee with all its additional flavours, creams and milk was a meal by itself, but Tony had concluded from his image in the mirror that morning that he could use some extra food. He ate the oatmeal in the café and drank his coffee while walking. The hospital was not far from where he was, and he still had three hours left before his appointment.

It felt good to be out in the fresh air, even when it was the smoggy DC-air. Tony found he actually enjoyed the walk and watched all the people coming by: a grey-haired man that looked suspiciously like Gibbs but was wearing a pink flowery shirt, so it couldn't be him, an old lady who scowled at him for no reason at all, a teenage boy so caught up in his music he almost ran into a stop light, and so on. Barely any time seemed to have passed when he entered the hospital.

This time, he had to spell her name only twice before getting the right room number. Yeah, he probably should have written it down or learned it by heart, but he found that being held prisoner and being almost starved to death was a good excuse for a lot of things, including this.


	12. Chapter 12

And there's another chapter, for you and only you. It's my last chapter in stock so I have to start writing like crazy, or I'll never make my self-made deadline. It's just so annoying that when I really need to write, I just don't know anything. So some suggestions are very, very welcome.  
This chapter is one I personally like, but the end is just off, somehow. Sorry for that, I thought about it for ages, but I couldn't come up with anything.

That's enough A/N for today. Way to much 'I's' in there. Don't like that. You know how it works by now, I figure. Read, enjoy, review!

* * *

He did remember how to find the room, so his memory wasn't totally screwed. There was nobody waiting outside, and the nameplate called 'Mss. Ls. Off. David' so it had to be the right room. Tony decided to knock, but his knuckles had barely touched the wood when the door flew open, and an angry Gibbs was in the doorway.

'She's asleep!' he whispered.

'Sorry.' Tony whispered back. Gibbs slapped him on the back of the head. Tony winced, and a few black spots whirled through his vision. That was something he needed to get rid of if he wanted to go back to work anytime soon.

Gibbs saw what happened, and offered one arm to steady, which Tony turned down.

'Never apologize' Gibbs whispered as an explanation.

'… it's a sign of weakness.' Tony finished, a little annoyed. Seriously, he had just been back from captivation by terrorists in Somalia where he had saved his teammate, and all he got was a slap on the head? He could see his boss realised the same thing, but was determined to hold on to his own rule. Fine, Tony thought. It's not like I'm used to being apologized to anyway.

It was only then that he noticed the circles under his boss' eyes and the heavy fatigue given away by the set of his mouth. He probably hadn't had any sleep since they left Somalia, more than 48 hours ago now.

'I'm going for a refill.' Gibbs said while stepping aside to permit Tony to step into the room.

'Shouldn't you go home?' Tony wondered.

'I've got to look after my people.' was the typical-Gibbs answer.

'You can't look after anyone if you fall asleep on the floor.'

That logic was airtight and for a moment, Tony was proud that his still fuzzy brain had been able to come up with it. The glare he received made it disappear quickly.

'Call McGee when you go. Don't leave her alone.' Gibbs ordered.

'Ay ay, boss.' Tony said and watched his boss walk away through the pale-yellow corridor, where he didn't seem to fit.

Then, very slowly, Tony turned. He was afraid of what he would see. The shadows had hidden the worst of the injuries when they were in the cell, and in the helicopter, the lights had also been dimmed. Now, the bright hospital lights wouldn't conceal anything from view.

And there she was. Lying uncharacteristically still, her skin almost matching colour with the white sheets. The needle of the IV seemed to be very thick in her thin arm, and the oxygen tube made her bony face look even more vulnerable. Tony swallowed, and took a seat on the chair next to the bed.

In the following hours, he watched her closely. Sometimes she slept peacefully and looked only drained from any form of energy, but more often she had nightmares in which she sobbed and cried. Tony tried to suit her by singing – it had worked before, but now it didn't. He didn't really have a choice but to sit on the edge of the bed and stroke her ashened cheeks, during which she finally calmed down.

And when Tony thought she had fallen deeply asleep and wanted to move away from the bed, she suddenly started to shiver violently. She called something in a language which sounded most like Arabic. It was a plea, low and tense, filled with seduction but also layered with fear. She repeated it a few times, then turned to another language, one that Tony did understand: English. Hearing her voice again felt good for only a split second, then he wished he never had. The fright in her voice and carved on her features was terrifying.

'Don't, don't!' she now no longer whispered. 'Keeping me here is no use, I don't know anything! Don't! Please, don't!' Her voice entered a higher pitch with the third 'don't'. Tony tried to calm her and put a hand on her cheek again, but she tensed and tried to shift away from it, so he let it drop.

'Ziva' he called softly. 'Ziva, wake up. No one is going to harm you.'

She didn't listen, or didn't hear. A sparkling tear appeared through her lashes.

There was another language she turned to now, her mother language, Hebrew. It could not be considered pleading anymore, she screamed earsplitting high, while tears ran down her cheeks. Her eyes suddenly opened, no comprehension of anything around her in them, only fear, fear, fear.

Tony felt like crying himself. She looked so, so breakable, more than was healthy. He hit the red emergency switch and within a few, though heartbreaking seconds, a doctor ran into the room, two nurses on his heels.

'Out' he called to Tony, who could barely move. A nurse gave him a little push and smiled sympathetically. 'This is quit common amongst victims of violent crimes. Don't worry. She'll be fine.' she said, while shoving him gently out the door.

And there he was, in the familiar hallway again. The door muffled the doctors orders, but for some reason not Ziva's screams. The terrified pitch hit Tony right in the face. He wanted to badly to burst through the door and hold her. But that wouldn't do any good, she was too caught up in nightmares and memories to notice anything of the real world, he had seen that in her eyes.

What had they done to her, Tony wondered for the hundredth time. He couldn't possibly imagine what would cause the strong, unbreakable woman he had know to scream like this, in the most agonized of fashions. Anger flared suddenly, violently and red-hot through his veins. For those men, no, those monsters, it was a good thing they were already dead. Tony wouldn't have granted them a quick merciful death like they had had.

Everybody had a breaking point, they had said. Tony wished he had had the chance to find theirs. He had never felt an urge to hurt and kill this strong, it overwhelmed him and dazzled him for a moment.

Suddenly, a scream caught Tony's attention. He hadn't noticed the noise dying down, until it picked up again. No Hebrew this time, nor wordless cries. What she called for was so clear. Clear as crystal, and equally as sharp.

'Tony!' Ziva screamed. 'Tony! Please, Tony!'

That was more then his freshly tangled nerves could bare. Why didn't the doctor do something? Why did he let her writhe like that? Didn't he hear the pure agony in her voice?

Tony rushed in, not paying any attention to the nurse who tried to hold Ziva down for the doctor's ready syringe. She was still screaming, her eyes unfocused, her back arched. Tony made an instinctive move which he was barely aware of. He sat down next to her and lifted her to his chest. There he held her, whispering to her all the while 'I'm here, Ziva. I'm here.' He rocked her like a baby, back and forth, until he felt her cramped muscles relax slightly and the screaming turned into the violent sobbing he had grown so used to. Tony didn't want to, but did what was asked when the doctor suggested to put her flat again. She whimpered once, and then the syringe was stuck into her thin arm. Within a few seconds, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body fell limp. The nurse tucked her in and left, the doctor 'on her six' like Gibbs would say. Tony stayed.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you very much for all the reviews :) That really makes me feel like I actually write something worth reading, which I'm not always very sure of :P Anyway, this was really the last part of my story I had left, so I'll really try to make my self-made deadline but jeez, school is taking up way too much time! So I hope to see you all on preferably Wednesday, but probably Tuesday.  
I decided to make up my own story about Tony's history, so maybe it isn't consistent with the series. Just so you know.  
Read, Enjoy, Review, as always :) Make my day!

* * *

The following days got a new pattern, that quickly grew to be normal. Tony had returned to work after four days of movies, food and sleep. He had announced that two agents was simply to little to properly solve a case, and that someone had to put McGee in his right place every now and then. He didn't tell them that the silence in his house, when there was no movie on, freaked him out and that his unoccupied mind was going crazy about every scenario of what could have happened. He figured that Gibbs knew anyway, so there was really no reason to say it aloud.

Because his stamina was severely damaged and his ribs still weren't what they should be, Tony was on desk duty. He used to hate that, and still preferred being in the field, but there was always plenty of work to do and the hospital was just a ten minute walk, which he made at least once a day. Gibbs had doubled his lunch breaks and so he spent a lot of his time in the hospital. There was no need to ask for the room number anymore, Tony had it memorized.

Eleven o'clock. Lunch break. Tony smiled meaningfully at Fanning: he was the only one who's break times hadn't changed. Abby could go see Ziva whenever she wanted, so could McGee. Gibbs did it himself too, and sometimes only showed up to order them around a bit. Tony didn't care. He was senior field agent, and that meant that hé could order people around whenever Gibbs was gone.

But all of that paled to insignificance when it was lunch break. It was 1101 when Tony got up and grabbed his jacket, ready to take over Gibbs at the hospital.

'Be back in an hour' he grinned to Fanning 'or two.'

Fanning snorted, but there was nothing he could do. Tony's grin widened when he walked into the elevator.

There, his grin faded slowly. How would she be today? Sometimes, she was really good. She had gained a few pounds, and though she still had that pale colour and was bruised everywhere, she looked a lot better. But she could look just as bad as when they got her out, when she had a panic attack. And that happened often, way too often. Then she would scream and cry and look so through-and-through frightened that Tony couldn't stand watching. He hoped today was a good day.

When he entered the right hallway, Tony could hear her terrified screams from far. He winced, and wanted to turn around, but didn't. Instead, he ran the last couple of yards and threw the door open. Inside was Ziva, of course, but she was not alone. Gibbs was with her and held her close, while padding her back with his one free hand.

'I'm here.' Gibbs said, in a calming voice. 'It's not real, Ziva. It's not real. You see? It's not. I promise you it's not.'

Tony didn't expect her to take any notice of that, she never did when he tried to calm her in whatever way. But her screams grew more and more feeble, until all that was left were sobs.

'You're a brave girl.' Gibbs said and kissed the top of her head. He attempted to lay her back in the hospital bed again, but she clung to him as if he were they only thing keeping her in place. So Gibbs didn't really have a choice but to hold her, though he didn't seem to mind as he padded her back and murmured something into her hair. Tony fidgeted with his collar, not knowing what to do. Gibbs gave him a short nod, mentioning him to come closer and making clear that he should sit on the bed. Tony didn't understand why, but as always he trusted his boss in everything so he obeyed. And before he even knew what was happening, Gibbs gently handed Ziva over to him, as a new-bourn baby that was wanted to be held by friends and family.

She moaned softly for a moment, than grabbed Tony's shirt with her good hand and slept on there, her head against his chest. Gibbs grinned, nodded and left the room.

And there he was, with Ziva asleep in his arms, sitting on the edge of a very uncomfortable hospital bed. After a few minutes, she seemed fast asleep enough – she even snored – to put her down. He loosened her fingers from his shirt, one by one, and threw the blankets aside. When he tucked her in, he had a brief flashback of long-lost times, when his mother was still like a mother should be, and never forgot to tuck him in.

'_Come on Anthony. It's long past bedtime.' his mother said, in her serious voice now._

'_Mama…' the seven year old Anthony moaned. 'I don't want to go to bed.'_

_His mother chuckled. She knew it would take him just a minute or two to fall asleep, as the day had been one that had asked a lot from him. She softly padded the back of his head. _

'_I'll read you an extra story, alright?' _

_Anthony looked thoughtful, his little face very concentrated which made his mother smile. There was so much of her own father in him._

'_Ok. I'll go. But do you help me to chase the monsters from under my bed?' _

'_Sure I will.' she smiled at her little handsome boy. When he grew up, he was going to be so pretty, she knew that. He changed into his PJ's and jumped into his big bed. _

'_First the story or first the monsters?' she asked._

'_The monsters.' he answered. _

'_Ok. I'll start. Do you sing with me?' she said, and little Anthony nodded. His mother started to sing the song she had made herself to keep the monsters away, and Anthony joined not long after that. Before the song had ended, he was asleep. His mother stroked his light brown hair, tucked him in and walked out, leaving the door open for just a bit. You never know with monsters, they might come back. _

So when monsters turned up in Ziva's dreams – she started to toss and turn restlessly – Tony sang the song he and his mother had made up when he was four years old. It mostly consisted of nonsense words and had a very soothing melody, which Tony had found to calm his nerves whenever he was scared or nervous. Not much of his past had stuck with him, probably because he didn't want to remember big parts of it, but that song turned up every now and then. And it still worked the way it had worked when his mother sung with him. Though he had meant the song to make Ziva's nightmare go away, his own nerves finally settled down too.

Tony ran a finger over the palm of Ziva's hand, and she grabbed it with more force than he had thought her capable of. He remembered how she had always had her gun in her hand while sleeping, and that she probably felt unsafe without it. So now his hand was her gun. Well, that was totally fine with him. Protecting her felt more than natural, it had become a necessity. And at least unconscious, she finally knew that too.


	14. Chapter 14

Just a warning: this is going to be a rather long authors note, so if you're not interested, please skip it.

First, some of you might have noticed I have skipped one of my usual updates. Sorry for that, school has been crazy. And I really can't write when I'm not inspired. And in addition to that, I left my notebook in my locker just when I finished this chapter. All really bad excuses, though sadly enough they are all true.  
Secondly, I want to explain why I call Tony by his first name and McGee by his second. That's because this should be from Tony's point of view - it isn't always, but I try. And Gibbs, well, he's just Gibbs, and Ziva is just a person you call by her first name very easily for some reason.  
At last I want to ask you to please, if you find an inconsistency in grammar or my language otherwise, tell me, because it always annoyes me when other people mix 'their', 'they're' and 'there' for example. If someone feels like being my beta, it would make me very happy :)

That is the end of my massive A/N, and the beginning of the story. Reviews are, as always, appreciated, good or bad. Have fun!

* * *

It was just a couple hours after they had come in the office, when Gibbs got a call. Tony looked up, resentment in his eyes. He could see it in Gibbs uncounsious change of attitude, an ability gained by working for him for ten years, almost straight, as he spent more hours at NCIS then anywhere else. A real field-job was on. Oh, he wished he could go. Though deskwork had its pro's, it couldn't be compared to fieldwork. But after five days of nothing but paperwork without any complaints from his side, Gibbs still didn't want to put him back in the field. Not that there was much 'field' anyway until now. The only case in the last couple days had been a Marine, killed by his wife for the insurance money. She had confessed as soon as they had brought her in. It was probably the easiest case they had had in NCIS history. How ironic.

'McGee, DiNozzo, grab your gear.' Gibbs yelled. Tony looked up, confused. Fanning was sitting next to him, equally as astonished.

'But boss…' Fanning said.

'Thanks, boss' Tony grinned widely, and winced when he threw his backpack over his shoulder.

Gibbs gave them both his death glare, which made Tony's grin disappear and Fanning's complain drift off into space.

'She's awake' Gibbs said as an explanation. And nothing else needed to be said.

Though in a hurry, DiNozzo, McGee and Gibbs took the elevator.

'How is she, Gibbs?' Tony asked demandingly while waiting for the doors to open. Gibbs stared his famous stare at him, that told him that he would hear when time the time was right, but today Tony was neither impressed nor patient enough to take that as an answer. He needed to know more than the three syllables Gibbs had granted him.

'Talk to me, Gibbs!' Tony didn't yell yet, but he was dangerously close. 'How – is – she?'

Gibbs didn't look surprised at the fury in his voice. Tony suspected that the famous Leroy Jethro Gibbs was known to the way he felt right now. Jenny suddenly popped into his mind and Tony winced. He had lost her, and that was his fault. He had lost Paula, and Kate. Now he was finally able to make some of it right. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

'She is awake, relatively healthy, aware of where she is, and scared, of course.' Gibbs answered when the doors of the elevator opened. They hurried to the car, and McGee and Tony both jumped in the back, neither wanting to lose time with their usual bickering about who's turn it was to drive shotgun. Before the doors were even closed, Gibbs' foot crashed down on the gas pedal. Tony and McGee slammed into their seats and held on to the sides, not daring to loosen their hands to fasten the seatbelts.

They passed one, two, three red lights and many more blaring horns. Gibbs only sped up; every red light made him push the pedal even further down until they reached a speed that would probably have scared Ziva.

They rounded the last corner – Tony would have sworn he saw smoke coming from the tires – and braked so suddenly that McGee and Tony now crashed into the front seats. While they collected themselves, Gibbs slammed the door shut behind him and ran through the revolving door. Tony didn't remember Gibbs running ever before if it wasn't to catch a suspect or avoid being blown up.

As fast as he could – that damn stamina of his – he ran after him, almost tackling an old lady as he rushed through the same revolving door Gibbs had just left. McGee pulled out the car keys, locked the car, caught the lady, apologized for Tony and hurried after his boss and partner.

They were already running through the peaceful corridors. Visiting hours had just ended and only an occasional nurse watched them go. Those nurses had seen it all before: the hope in their eyes, the determination in the set of their mouths, the worry in the lines in their foreheads. They had seen the tears, heard the cries in joy or in grief and the love, always the love. So when the three men ran to their beloved one, whoever that might be, no one told them to be quiet, or to slow down. They just smiled knowingly, and hoped for this story to have a happy end.

When Gibbs rushed into Ziva's room, not bothering to knock, a nurse did call after him. Patients were the most important in the hospital, even – or especially - in emergencies like this.

'Only one person in there!' she called after him. McGee was the only one who listened. He grabbed Tony's shoulders just before he entered the room, so the special agent staggered back and stopped in the doorway. There he stood, breathing heavily, biting his lip. That was bad habit had been something to fall back on, and had gotten the best of him again.

Gibbs kneeled next to the bed in which Ziva was lying, eyes wide. He took her fragil-looking face in his hand and looked into her scared, dark eyes.

'Ziva.' He said. 'Stop worrying. You're safe now.'

Ziva took his words in, then closed her eyes. She breathed in and out very slowly, and some of the tension in her jaw line and neck disappeared.

'Better.' Gibbs said smiling. And after a few seconds he added 'I- We missed you.' He placed a ginger kiss on her forehead, and reminded Tony of the father-figure again. Ziva's eyes grew moist and she rubbed into them, even now trying to hide every sign of vulnerability.

'Anything I can do for ya?' he asked. Ziva shook her head. Gibbs nodded in acknowledgement and got up from his knees. He brushed his hand over her tangled hair just once, before making room for Tony.

Quickly, Tony walked to her side and sat on the edge of the bed. He wanted to say something, something important, but couldn't think of anything.

'You're awake.' he finally said.

'So it seems.' Ziva answered. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but missed the strength to pull through.

Tony tried very, very hard to come up with a good subject to talk about, but could find none. Just when he wanted to start on Fanning, his everlasting source of annoyance, she yawned widely. It looked so cute that it made Tony smile.

'What?' she asked, a tiny bit annoyed.

'Nothing.' Tony said, still smiling. Oh, he had missed that. The tone of her voice when she was angry. Her threatening to kill him with a paperclip. Heck, he had even missed her sneaking up on him.

'Just glad to have you back.' he muttered under his breath, when he saw her eyes slipping closed. Later, she would say that she smiled because she had been happy to see they were all fine. But Tony knew that she had heard him, and smiled too.


	15. Chapter 15

I hope you like this chapter, it's kind of a filler, but some things just had to be sorted out. And I suddenly recalled that Abby and Tony hadn't had their personal reunion yet, and that was something that needed to be done. I found that writing Abby is harder than I expected, as all the others say little but everything they do say is layered with emotions and double meanings and stuff, and Abby is just talking about nothing really. So I hoped I succeeded and that you will reward me with a review :) Oh, by the way, the next chapter is going to be from Ziva's point of view, but I haven't written it yet and I really want to get it right so it might take a little longer. As for now, enjoy!

* * *

It was two days after Ziva's awakening – that sounded dramatic but fitting – when Tony entered the office at 1017. Fanning glared, McGee looked questioning and Gibbs, well, Gibbs didn't even look up.

'Why are you this late?' McGee asked. Tony sighed. Should he explain? Would it be appropriate, would it say too much? He had just decided to explain when Gibbs looked up in the end, eyebrows raised, his hands in a gesture that demanded an explanation. Alright. No pondering needed then. Tony took another deep breath.

'I overslept.' he said, and walked to his desk where he threw his coat over his chair.

'You overslept?' Gibbs asked incredulously. In the ten years he had worked with him, his senior agent had never overslept once.

'Yeah.' Tony said sheepishly.

Gibbs stood and walked over to Tony, to examine his worn down face.

'Did you sleep at all?' he asked after a minute of scrutiny.

Tony shrugged. 'An hour or so…' he admitted.

Gibbs head slapped him. 'What were you thinking? What did you do?' he yelled.

Tony squared his shoulders, ready to take what was coming, whatever that might be. 'In the hospital.' he said with a steady voice.

Gibbs steel blue eyes softened a tad. It was something very small, and Tony only noticed because he had seen the look before, when Gibbs had held Ziva in his arms like a father holds his baby.

'She didn't sleep?' Gibbs asked, no anger or blame in it now. Tony was momentarily distracted by the soft side of Gibbs, but that thought was quickly taken by the next slap on the back of his head.

'Ouch!' Tony said and quickly recovered. 'Ehm, she was, but she had nightmares all through the night. Until five in the morning I believe.'

'Go home.' Gibbs said suddenly.

'What?' Tony said astonished.

'Go home. Get some rest. Go see Ziva. I'll take the night shift.' Gibbs said and pointed to the elevator. It was clear that the night shift he mentioned wasn't an official one.

Tony nodded, not knowing what to say. The father-figure was there in Gibbs' eyes again, and Tony had no idea what to do with it. To be true, it felt good, but also very wrong. If Gibbs was being so nice and caring, he was not Gibbs anymore, and if Gibbs was not Gibbs, who could expect from him to keep both his feet steadily on the ground?

So Tony walked to the elevator, to puzzled to argue and felt like the ground under his feet would disappear every second. He flicked the well-know switch, not for a counsel this time, but to do some quality pondering on his own. He sunk down on the steel floor and let his back rest against the cold but familiar and therefore comforting wall. Last night had taken a high toll on him, and not only physically. Ziva had been crying the entire night, from 8 pm when he had entered the room until 7 am when he had left. Her dreams seemed to stretch further than just Salim's little hell. She had called for her father, her mother, for Michael, her little sister, and so many more. All the deep-buried memories seemed to break through, and it had scared Tony how much she had suffered in the short period she had lived. How had he wished she would just wake up, and he could hold her and comfort her and brush her tears from her face…

It was barely five minutes later when he got himself together again and flipped the switch into its usual position. Just when the elevator started to decline again and buzzed to a stop, Tony's phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out quickly; only a few people had this number, his emergency-number. It could only be bad news.

'DiNozzo.' Tony answered it while walking out the elevator towards the exit of the building.

'Tony!' a very familiar voice called.

'Abby?' Tony asked. 'What's up?'

'Nothing really.' the forensic scientist said. 'I just wanted to see you, and then I went up, and Gibbs told me you left, so I called your cell, which was off, of course, because I suppose Salim has taken it, so I tried your emergency phone, which is what I am doing now, actually.' She paused. Tony didn't say anything too, for a brief period, as it took some time to process the quick chatter he hadn't heard for quit a while.

'So, are you going to come over or what?' Abby asked finally, not able to keep her mouth shut any longer. 'I haven't seen you in way too long. I mean, I have seen you, but I haven't really seen you, you know what I mean? Just for the benefit of seeing you, not for gathering evidence or giving clues or something like that.' She paused again, very unlike herself.

'I missed you.' she added in the end. Tony didn't know what to say to that. So he shut his phone and walked into the elevator again, Abby's lab as his destination.

'Tony!' she called again when he walked in. And before he could even shield himself, she had flung herself around his neck and hugged him bone-crunchingly tight.

'Oh, I should have done that much earlier.' she groaned in his ear.

While trying to shove her away and not hurt her feelings doing it, Tony answered: 'No you shouldn't.'

Abby looked at him with wide, horrified eyes. She took a step back, put her hands on her hips and squinted. Her bangs had grown long in the last few months and interfered with her sight. She blew them out of her face, which looked very comical, but Tony dared not to laugh.

'And why exactly is that?' she spat at him. Tony held both his hands in front of his face, pretending to protect himself and smirking widely. He should have gone to see Abby sooner. No one gets you in a better mood than a – most of the time – happy Goth.

'Because my bruised ribs are just starting to recover, my dear Abbs.' he chuckled, and saw her face changing from angry to confused to apologetic. And again, he was crushed in her arms. 'Ouch, Abby.' he croaked. 'Not that healed yet.'

She quickly released him, more apologies in her eyes. 'I'm sorry Tony, I didn't mean to… you know, crunch you. Should I call Ducky? He can fix ribs, he has fixed Gibbs once when he was beaten up pretty bad –'

'It's ok, Abby.' Tony interrupted. 'Don't worry. I'm fine.'

Abby took in a big gulp of air. 'Where were you heading anyway?' she asked. 'You guys are on a case, right? And you're not supposed to leave when working on a case, except when you have a lead, but you obviously haven't because then you wouldn't be heading out alone.'

'Gibbs sent me home.' Tony said. Abby looked at him, mystified.

'He- what? Sent you- what?' she asked, staring at him as if he had told her the laws of gravity were complete nonsense. Which was probably just as likely to happen.

'Yeah, I know.' Tony sighed. 'I kind of stayed up all night, and now he's acting like he's my dad and demands that I get some sleep.'

Abby's astonished look cleared slightly, but she was still somewhat dazed.

'Coming with me?' Tony asked, when she didn't reply with her usual babbling. Abby nodded thoughtfully and asked, 'Where are we going?'

'The hospital, of course.' Tony stated like it was most obvious. Abby smiled and offered her arm to Tony. He took it happily and together they walked off, looking like they were kids going to a playground rather than grown ups going to a hospital to see their severely harmed friend.


	16. Chapter 16

Hello there :) Here's my new chapter, from Ziva's point of view for a change. I thought it would be a lot harder to write, I've been pondering forever on the last one, but it was so easy it was unbelievable. There is so much more Ziva in my head that I'll make at least one other chapter from her POV, so prepare ;) Oh, and with this, I just go over what has already happened in the story, but I think it's interesting to see it through Ziva's eyes, not in the last place because she's just the coolest person on the show.  
So read and review, you know I like that :) Suggestions of any kind are always welcome, just as details about what you liked and didn't like. Have fun!

* * *

Ziva inhaled his well-known scent as the footsteps came closer and closer. His scent, though stained with cold sweat, drugs and dirt reminded her of better times when she had been happy and relatively carefree. She closed her eyes, just because he said so, and imagined like he wanted her to. She didn't have a particular image in mind, just a warm feeling that she thought had been lost forever. It was the feeling that came with the smell of black coffee, with falling asleep at a crime scene on Tony's shoulder while Gibbs was watching over them. It came with joking and teasing and meaningful looks, with movies and takeouts and paperwork.

It had a colour, that feeling, a orange-red colour of the fading sun at sunset. It wasn't the red of fresh blood or the bright orange of emergency lights, it was a soothing colour that calmed frightening thoughts and settled unsettled nerves. Ziva smiled a small smile, something she didn't remember having done for a long time; heaven would be like this, if something like that existed and if she would ever be allowed in. She clutched Tony closer with the last of her strength, and heard his numbered heart beats. There were so many things left unsaid, but none of them mattered right now. She had the feeling that there was no need to say them aloud, because he knew just like she knew.

The door, the voices, the footsteps, she heard them all but like they were filtered by a thick glass wall. Nothing got really through to her. Oh, it would be so much easier if they were just killed right away. She had suffered enough, finally, and Tony didn't deserve suffering of any kind as he was her guardian angel. She felt how his grip was loosened and wanted to scream in protest, but her lungs were drained from air as were her muscles from energy.

She was picked up and held, and suddenly, the colour appeared again, the orange-red colour, with the smell of strong coffee, paperwork and gunpowder. And with it, the overwhelming feeling of security. That made the little adrenaline she had left, vanish. There was nothing left to keep her awake now, so the last thing she noticed before the blackness took her, was the caring, practiced hand that cupped her head to protect her from anything, or so it seemed.

She woke up for brief moments when in a hospital of some kind. Every time, fear would overwhelm her. All was fuzzy, lights were too bright and sounds too loud. They hurt her ears, her eyes, and everything was intelligible. Ziva was confused and wanted to ask for explanations, but her body didn't respond to her brain anymore. She felt nothing, heard and saw barely anything. Except for the syringe. She saw that coming, and cried, though not knowing where she had found the energy to cry. It remembered her of pain, excruciating pain, pain, pain, pain…

_'Hello little girl.' a man said in Arabic, his voice layered with false kindness and his eyes filled with evil pleasure. Ziva turned her head away. Go away, she called in her head. Make him go. Don't let him hurt me._

_But of course, nobody heard the unspoken cries of a grown woman who had turned into a little girl once again. The man smiled cruelly, and took a syringe out of his pocket. It was filled with a slightly unclear liquid, and he pressed some of it out to make sure there were no bubbles in it. _

_'Ready?' he asked, the evil sparks in his eyes becoming smouldering flames. Ziva tried to keep her scream of fear in by biting her lip, but when she draw blood and freed it out of reflex, a tiny cry escaped. The man smiled his unpleasant smile again. He had smiled before, that same smile when he was about to hurt her in one way or the other. _

_He grabbed her left arm and exposed the vulnerable skin of the crease of her elbow. She tried to jerk away, but his hands were strong and hers were weak. He chuckled. _

_'Still fighting, little beauty? Well, I can tell you, in just a few hours you'll have told us everything we want to know, and more.' He grinned widely before stabbing the syringe into her veins, and Ziva screamed, just for the fear of what was coming because the sting of the needle was nothing compared to what she had already lived through. _

_The man cut the binds that bound her to the chair with his sharp knife, grazing her right wrist on purpose and letting her fall and curl up on the dirty earth floor. Then he walked out, the cruel grin still lingering._

_It was not long after that that Ziva started to feel the effect of the drug. It was like fire, white hot and burning her from the inside out and it crept slowly, torturingly through her veins, down her arm, her wrist, her fingers and up, to her shoulder, neck, chest and so on until her whole body was caught up in the excruciating pain. Ziva didn't remember if she had screamed; she probably had. She didn't remember whether she had moved, or lay still, waiting for it to pass. Because there was nothing else than pain. She felt pain, on every square inch of her skin, of her body, even her hair seemed to writhe in pain. She saw pain, she tasted in on her tongue, she smelled it, she heard it, there was nothing except for the pain that passed all borders of sanity. In that moment, she was totally sure she would die from pain. Not from injuries, bleedings or something like that, just the experience of this pain would be enough to let a body shut down all its systems, just to avoid having to live through any more of it. _

It was then that the familiar face, though blurred, and the voice, though intelligible, calmed her. Just the pitch of it was enough to make her strained muscles relax, because it also came with the leaving of the syringe that carried the memory of unbearable pain. She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and fell into the deep darkness of unconsciousness again.

When she woke again, it was of fear. She couldn't remember what her dream had been about, but it had been filled with fright, enough to make her happy she was awake, however awake came with pain and regret and memories. A hand went through her hair and Ziva stiffened, not daring to breath for several seconds. Somebody leaned in on her, and she closed her eyes to not show the fear in them, when she heard what he said. It was the language that came with the home-feeling, the feeling of safety, and also one of the voices that belonged with it. 'Ssssh…' it murmured. 'Everything's alright.'

It took some self-control to relax. The large, warm hands that made gentle circles on her neck and shoulders definitely helped, and she sunk into darkness again. As long as the hands kept her in place, she was confident she wouldn't dwell into nightmares again.

The rotor blades sounded like machine guns and woke Ziva up instantly. She was focussed and alert immediately, but couldn't get up; she was firmly strapped to a flat surface. Panic crept down her spine as she tried to sit again and was held down again too. A hand touched her cheek and she jerked her head away, her breathing ragged. Where were they going? What had they planned for her?


	17. Chapter 17

I was kind of sad to find no (really none) reviews in my inbox. I know that there are literally thousands of better stories on this site only, but I would really, really, really appreciate it if you told me you liked it or just what I can change so it's going to be a better story. And I know there have been enough readers, so I hope you will continue to like this so I will continue to post - there's no use if nobody likes it, yes?  
Anyway. That's for the depressing A/N. I just want to add that it may seem like Ziva's slipping in and out of consiousness again and again and she is, actually. I just didn't know how to phrase it other than this. So I hope you like it, because there's another Ziva-chapter up, and I won't skip that just for your benefit ;)  
Read, enjoy, review!

* * *

It didn't take long for her Mossad training to kick in. She never thought she would be grateful for the endless breathing exercises she had never had the patience for. That was exactly why she had been forced to do them for hours and hours, until she was so calm and focused that the people on the streets, who used to keep out of her way already, took a detour when she only walked by.

Breathe in, breathe out. The air was clear, a little stale and smelling strongly of people and desert. No sign of danger; no gasses, no gunpowder as far as she could smell.

Breathe in, breath out. The sounds were those of a normal helicopter, a big one though. She idly wondered how they had stored that in the little base, but the thought drifted away quickly.

Breathe in, breathe out. People were talking in the background, the pitch of their language was familiar, but that didn't say a lot; there were many languages that sounded familiar to Ziva. There weren't a lot of people; ten at max.

Breathe in, breathe out. Above the bed she was strapped to, was a net used by paratroopers. There was a window not far above her, but she couldn't see through it because she had no choice but to stay flat on her back. If she could get them to release her, the window might help her to get her bearings.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Her breath had fallen into its normal pattern again when she detected one of the people sitting on the floor beside her, cross legged. He stared at her with his piercing blue eyes. Though his look wasn't really friendly, it hadn't been part of the small hell she had encountered before. All the cold eyes there had been brown – like her own, she couldn't help but add.

'Awake, Ziva?' he asked before she could finish her careful assessment. Ziva blinked at him, not knowing what to say. Memories filtered through very slowly and she remembered that he was good. He belonged to the good guys, though she still didn't know who he was. She studied his face and came to the conclusion that he had to be someone she was around much: she knew every wrinkle, every grey hair and the pattern of his sky-blue irises. They worked together, she suddenly recalled. But why was he here, in the helicopter with her?

'Where am I?' she asked hem, and he looked at her, just as puzzled as she felt herself. It took a few moments before Ziva realised she had spoken Hebrew. She quickly repeated her question in English, and the face of the man brightened in understanding.

And then, suddenly, without any warning, fear overwhelmed her like a thick blanket. It covered her view and made Ziva feel like she was suffocating. The memories of the past few weeks suddenly slammed into her, and she screamed, eyes wide. The man she now recognized as Gibbs, her boss, stretched out his hand to touch her cheek but she pushed it away. If she had been at normal strength, his fingers would have been crushed in the process, now they were only slightly bruised.

It was a really odd feeling, being so scared without a reason while being able to recognize and place everything around her. But the fear was there and was sickening, almost more a physical than a mental thing. Nausea was taking the better of her and she tried very hard to settle her stomach by breathing very, very slowly. And like last time it was a syringe that punctured her blurred vision, making the fear peak. This time, no one kept the syringe from coming closer and closer to the scarred crease of her elbow and when the needle entered the vein, she cried out, but the cry was smothered by the instant darkness.

The next thing that broke through the darkness were the sirens. Sirens had always set her on edge, because in her childhood in Tel Aviv blaring sirens had meant danger and hurt and mostly asked for immediate response. Her eyes snapped open but though her sight was clear now, she couldn't make sense of what she saw. It all went too fast for her brain to process. Ties were loosened and tightened again, bursts of colour were moving – or was it her? – and there were sounds, so much more than what she was used to by now. She wanted to clap her hands over her ears to keep them all out, they made her head ace, but those were strapped to her sides again. A split second of panic, then a reassuring voice that she didn't understand but did calm her.

The world around her calmed a bit shortly after that and she was able to determine the inside of an ambulance. A male nurse took her vitals, his hands were surprisingly gentle and warm. 'Where am I?' she asked again, in English this time.

'Home.' Gibbs answered. Ziva strained herself to look up and saw him sitting at the foot of the stretcher. The nurse pushed her down softly and she didn't restrain.

'Or DC, whatever you want.' Gibbs continued, probably realising that she might not refer to it that way.

'How do'ya feel?' he asked when a silence fell. Ziva sighed and decided it would be the best to go with the truth. She had told enough lies for a very long time.

'Crappy.' she answered and saw Gibbs smile slightly at her use of American slang from the corner of her eye.

'I can give you something for that.' the nurse interrupted. Ziva shook her head once, then winced at the feeling that gave. That would probably be a needle-thing again – she would have to take more than her fair share of that when into the hospital.

'I'll be okay.' she said, shutting her eyes. The sound of cars around her was muffled by the walls of the ambulance. It was a sound that soothed her, as it was familiar as well as monotone. And for the first time in very, very long, Ziva drifted off into a natural sleep, rather than unconsciousness.

She was woken by Gibbs' voice. 'Ziva? Are you there?' he asked.

'Where else should I be?' she murmured sleepily, not opening her eyes. She heard Gibbs chuckle lightly. 'They are going to make you sleep a little longer, Ziva. Surgery.' he told her and though she understood what he said, it didn't get really through to her. A cap was placed over her mouth with a sickening sweet taste in the air that blew through. She gagged but before she could open her eyes, the drugs kicked in and she fell limp, again.


	18. Chapter 18

Oh, I've been bad again, I missed two updates... I think I won't get anything for Christmas. Well, I bought my own present today, so that won't happen, but anyway, I'm sorry to keep you all waiting, I really am! I didn't mean to, it just... happened. Sorry.  
Well, here's another Ziva-chapter, maybe I'll make it 50/50 in the future, I like writing Ziva :) This chapter is another revision, but in the end there's something I just though of, and I hoped it worked out as I hoped it would; showing Tony's weak spot for Ziva and Ziva's never-ending stubbornness. And the nurse is a reference to a friend of mine, wonder whether she reads/knows.  
Anyway, I hope you don't abandon my story like I did, and keep the reviews coming :) Then I'll try to keep chapters coming as well.

* * *

Ziva's memories of the time between the helicopter and the final awakening in the hospital were unintelligible, laced with fear and without any sense of time. There were voices, sometimes unknown, sometimes known, but always far away. She tried to break through the wall between her and the rest of the world several times, but when she pushed against it, fear tried to crush her and get her back into the safe darkness again.

Finally, she succeeded. The wall shattered as soon as it cracked, and Ziva gulped in a breath as if she had been under water. Her eyes were open, though she didn't remember opening them. The hospital room that she didn't remember but looked familiar anyway, was empty. Where were the people that had made her want to break the wall? Where had they gone?

As her breathing sped, so did the machines that she now saw were gathered around her. An alarm went off, Ziva tensed at the sound of it, footsteps sounded in the hallway. Some one came in, a nurse. She smiled and the calm that she emitted was in shrill contrast with Ziva's panicky confusion.

'Hello dear.' the nurse said with a bright, warm smile. 'It's nice to see that you're awake. I'm Anne-Mary.'

Ziva nodded, calmed a little but not entirely. Her eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. When she spoke, she felt how dry her throat was. 'Where are…' she asked – or croaked, really. The sentence trailed off into space; who did she want to ask for? She couldn't recall their names. Her eyes floated to the nurse, looking for help.

Anne-Mary smiled. 'They are called, don't worry. They'll be here very soon.'

Ziva nodded quietly and fidgeted with the IV-line. She was fairly uncomfortable with the needle in the delicate spot in her wrist but was rational enough not to act like it. Ripping it out would not only be painful, but also have some serious consequences for her health and not to forget, pain management.

Anne-Mary stepped from the doorway and checked the machines one by one, making notes on a chart. She repositioned Ziva's oxygen-tube that had been twisted before, and Ziva thankfully took a deep breath.

Footsteps sound in the corridor, quick footsteps and they remind Ziva strongly of the last moments in Salim's camp. Her breath quickened again and her back tensed. Anne-Mary walked out of the room to see what the commotion was for, and if her help was needed, leaving Ziva on her own.

Ziva was immediately caught in memories; running footsteps had meant serious trouble over the past few weeks, and that was something she wouldn't get rid of anytime soon. She folded her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring at the doorway. Though she knew that it was irrational to be afraid, she was scared at who would walk through every next second.

The steps came closer and closer and Ziva heard a nurse yell something at them. No one slowed. Her breath started to come out in gasps, the well-known fear settling in the pit of her stomach.

A man crossed the threshold, his stride was quick, hasty. He kneeled down to the bed, and Ziva instantly recognized him. Her breath slowed, and when her face was caught in his hands, her shoulders relaxed. There was no need that he said what she already knew; that there was no reason to be afraid, but he did it anyway. He reminded her of the father she had always wanted, and when he kissed the top of her head, like she had always seen fathers in movies do, her eyes grew moist. Ruefully, she rubbed into them with her hands, trying not to show what was going on inside her. That was for a later stage, when she could bare spilling feelings without breaking apart as she no doubt would when she tried now.

Then she spotted another familiar face in the doorway. Her attention to Gibbs was lost instantly and she fixed her gaze on the worn-out frame of special agent Anthony DiNozzo. He looked really horrible; his shoulders slumped, his shirt was way too big for his skinny body and his eyes lay deep in their sockets. Suddenly, Ziva realised that she no doubt looked much worse. She was happy that there was no mirror in the room, she would probably have scared herself.

She nodded vaguely to Gibbs, who let his hand linger on the top of her head for a second, then left. Tony entered the room at the exact moment Gibbs set foot in the hallway. He walked to her bed swiftly and she was happy to see some of the eagerness in his eyes she felt herself, deep inside. Or had she imagined that?

They stared at each other. Ziva was totally comfortable with that, she hadn't stared at him for way too long and she wanted to check whether the harm that was done to her, had also occurred at his benefit. But Tony was, well, being Tony so he felt highly uncomfortable and she could see him searching his mind for something to say.

'You're awake.' he finally stated. The comment was so obvious, that it would have made Ziva laugh out loud if they had been in the office. But she found it hard to smile anymore, almost like she couldn't really recall how to make it work. She did however like the warm feeling that bubbled inside her. He made her smile. Yes, everything was going to be alright again.

It was some time after that, that she woke of the strong smell of Chinese takeout. She tried breathing through her mouth only; if there had been anything in her stomach before, it wouldn't have still been there by now. It took twelve deep breaths for her stomach to settle down. Through her eyelashes, she took a peek at who was eating.

She could have guessed. Who else than Tony would take the most strong-smelling food available in DC to a malnutritioned co-worker who hadn't eaten for… what was it? Two weeks? Despite his lack of thoughtfulness, she couldn't be mad at him. After what he had done, it would be very unreasonable to be mad at him, but that wasn't what caused her to smile at his poor chopstick-skills.

Ziva stretched, faked a wide yawn and pretended to wake up for no particular reason. Tony dropped his chopsticks.

'Ziva! You're awake!' he said.

'You said the same last time.' Ziva noted. 'Couldn't you come up with something more inventive this time?'

Tony pretended to be deep in thought, biting his lip and staring at the ceiling.

'No.' he said very seriously after a couple minutes had passed, but his eyes smiled.

Ziva felt the corners of her mouth lift slightly – oh, that was what it felt like to laugh – and wanted to make a joke back, to make him smile as well.

'Can I have a bite?' she asked. The smell that had turned her stomach before, became more and more appealing. And one bite of Chinese wouldn't hurt her, yes? She longed for the feeling of food in her empty, aching stomach. Oh, how great would that feel.

Tony looked speculative at his food, and then at her. 'You sure?' he asked, doubt in his voice. Ziva nodded eagerly.

'You never liked pig-meat' Tony added, grinning.

'I can eat a whole pig at the time.' Ziva answered. 'Come on Tony, one bite.'

Tony hesitated, but when Ziva stuck out her hand, he stood and handed her the chopsticks. She picked them in her left hand, though she is right-handed she looked practiced when picking out an unidentifiable piece of what probably was a mushroom.

She chewed it with her eyes closed, looking very, very gratified. When she finished the mushroom, she dropped the chopsticks and sighed. 'Oh, that's good.'

But before she could pick them up again to choose another bite, she gagged violently. There is only the mushroom that could come up, but she kept gagging, and it started to sound more like choking every time.

'Sorry.' Ziva managed to spit out between the spasms. Tony shook his head, while trying to calm Ziva. Why didn't they mention something like this in the First Aid – course?

'Don't be.' he muttered when Ziva passed out again. 'Don't be.'


	19. Chapter 19

And there's a Tony chapter again, finally. And semi-on time. But I don't have any school for two weeks now, so that's a good thing. Heaps of work though, and lots of sleep to catch up... Well, I'll survive. And you will too, because I'll have more time to write :) I just update when I can, that might take one day, or maybe a week, I'll see. For this chapter: I skipped some visits because I had had enough of the emotional stuff. This chapter is lighter, though not totally free of emotions. I like it :) And I hope you do too!  
Read, enjoy, review!

* * *

'Heya Ziva, how are you today?' Tony asked when he entered the familiar hospital room. Ziva was reading a pocket, which she closed and put away in the drawer next to her bed before Tony had the chance to spot the cover.

'I'm quit good, actually.' she said with a bright voice, before he could ask what she had been reading. If she hadn't sounded so happy, Tony would have dug into it anyway, but he was caught off guard.

'What makes you so happy today?' he asked surprised.

'I can go home tomorrow!' she smiled, clearly looking forward to that. He knew she didn't like hospitals because there she had to be still for one, couldn't impress people with her Mossad moves for two and had to follow orders for three.

'So where are you going?' he asked bluntly. He was a bit – ok, more than a bit – dazzled by her bright smile. The last time she had smiled like that, was ages ago, another lifetime or so it seemed. It lit up her face, making her the beautiful woman she once was despite the bruises and hollowness. But her smile faltered and a confused frown appeared instead.

'What do you mean?' she asked. 'I'm going home.'

Tony frowned too, and cursed under his breath. He shouldn't have asked. Yet, he should, because if she had planned something stupid again, he was the one to talk her out of it.

'Can you define "home" for me?' he asked, and was a little afraid of her answer. If she would say "Tel Aviv" without a doubt, what could he do? It was not like he had the right of preventing her going on a plane, or limit her freedom in any way if that was necessary. A fear awoke inside him, the fear he had gained after not hearing from her for too long when she was left in Israel and woke up worrying practically every night.

Ziva's frown deepened. It was clear she didn't understand what he was getting at. 'My apartment, of course. Where else?' she said, still confused.

'Your apartment got kind of blown before you left, remember?' Tony said. He was confused too. Why didn't she remember? She remembered Somalia; they hadn't talked about it, but Tony knew. It wasn't something that needed to be confirmed in words, her eyes told the story for her. Tony had tried to explain it to McGee, but dropped it after trying for five minutes straight. Gibbs had gotten it though, and had given him a nod of understanding.

Ziva looked very concentrated now, her eyes unfocused. She was probably trying to picture what had happened, and why, and when.

'I'll take a hotel room' she finally said, when after a few minutes her expression changed from confusion to deep-in-thought to determination.

'And who is going to look after you there? You can't take care of yourself yet. Are you going to ask the room service to check on you every now and then?' Tony said, an edge of protective anger in his voice.

Ziva immediately got defensive. 'I can look after myself! I'm a trained assassin, and I got enough money to hire the people I need! Don't you baby me!' she yelled at him. He had attacked what she was most proud of and what was also her biggest weakness; her ever-applying, never-failing independence. Tony assumed that she had never lost that before, and being unknown to the feeling of weakness was hard to deal with in itself.

'No you don't, and you know that just as well as I do.' Tony contradicted, talking about both the looking after herself and the money. He recalled a memory from some time ago. A girl had killed her foster parents to get the insurance money from her already diseased parents.

_'Insurance… a whole load of crap, if you ask me.' Tony said, being tired of all the forms and folders they had had to sort through and were piled up on his desk in unorganized heaps. _

_'I agree. Mossad officers mostly don't have one at all.' Ziva said, leaning her head and arms on a much neater pile. Tony pulled up an eyebrow. _

_'But it's a dangerous job, right? Don't you people often get hurt?' he wondered._

_'Well, with a high-risk job like mine, insurance is unbelievably high. So you can better pay the little things, a stitch now and then, a broken wrist, yourself. And Mossad officers don't get hurt badly. They either kill their enemy and survive, or they die. There's nothing in between.' _

_She said it coldly, but Tony could see the flicker of emotion in her eyes. She must have lost many. Tony shivered at the thought how it would be to lose someone close to you on regular basis. McGee, Ziva, Gibbs... all people who made his life to hell on a regular basis, but only thinking of losing them hurt already. _

_'So you don't have insurance?' McGee asked, interrupting Tony's train of thoughts. _

_'No.' Ziva stated happily. 'No paperwork for me.'_

_'So your dad pays your hospital bills?' Tony asked curiously._

_'No.' Ziva said, another flicker of emotion in her eyes, which wasn't sadness but not really anger too. 'He says that I'm already being paid so having no insurance is my own responsibility.' _

'So what do you propose then?' Ziva said glaring. She obviously wasn't happy to have her vulnerability pointed out.

'You can stay with me.' Tony said and hoped very badly she would take the offer, though he knew she only would when she had no choice.

'I told you I can pay for the help I need. And I do not need a lot of help!' She was angry again.

'You do. You can't even get your own groceries, neither can you cook, clean, make your bed, and so on. And maybe your salary is bigger than mine, but I'm pretty sure your funds are as well as exhausted by your stay in here.'

'I cannot ask that from you.' she said, her voice still fierce but her eyes softer. 'You saved my life, I owe you more than I'll ever be able to give back already.'

'How many times have you saved my life? Well? You probably don't even know, because you lost count! Come on Ziva, let me make this right.' Tony said, angry at Ziva as well as himself, for no clear reason.

'No.' she said stubbornly. 'There is nothing to make right.'

'Do I have to get the doctor to order you?' Tony threatened, knowing that he wouldn't win an argument with her.

'They won't.' Ziva said.

'They will.' Tony said. 'And if they won't, Gibbs will.'

'He won't!'

'He will.'

'What won't I?' Gibbs asked, having perfect timing as always. Ziva glared at Tony, and he grinned back at her.

'Ziva wants to rent a room until she's found a new place, and the room service to look after-' Tony started, but was cut of by Ziva.

'I don't need to be looked after!' she said, folding her arms, though still being in bed trying to act in her self-confident way she used to. Gibbs gave her a glare and walked over to her. He head slapped her very, very gingerly, it was more of a stroke than a slap, but the meaning was clear. Tony's grin widened and stuck even when he got head slapped himself – with usual force.

'Ya see, Ziva?' Tony said, only a little smug. She shook her head, seemingly not able to find words for her disapproval.

'I won't. I really won't' she said, earning another glare from both of the men.

Gibbs walked to the doorway, halting there. 'You take her home tomorrow, DiNozzo. Take good care of her. And if I hear anything I don't approve of...' he let the sentence trail off, because it was unnecessary to end it. Tony nodded. 'Yes boss.'

'And you' Gibbs continued, now focussing on Ziva. 'you behave, you hear me? Be good.'

Ziva wanted to disagree, but before she could start arguing, Gibbs was already gone.


	20. Chapter 20

This chapter is kinda off... I think I've got a case of the infamous writers block, but well, until now I thought that was just another bad excuse, so I'll post this chapter anyway. Next will - hopefully - be better!  
Read, enjoy, review! You know the drill :)

* * *

Yes, Tony was happy that Ziva was going to stay with him. But when he came home and faced his bachelor apartment, he almost lost courage. He didn't even have a guestroom. He would have to stay on the couch until… yeah, who knew until when. It was a good thing he had decided to spend so much money on his couch years ago.

Tony sucked in a deep breath, decided that if this was what needed to be done, he'd do it and started cleaning, starting in the doorway, working to the bedroom. He knew Ziva could live with GSM's and playboys, he put them away anyway. Just courtesy. He found things he had lost years ago, and things he didn't know he owned. And a few things he didn't actually own: a black lacy bra, bright-coloured striped socks that surely weren't his, a thick book with Shakespeare's sonnets and a package of brand new bobby pins. Tony raised his eyebrows, disposed the bra and the socks, put the book on his bookshelf – might come in handy to steady a table someday – and put the bobby pins in his bathroom cupboard. Who knew.

When Tony finally finished cleaning, he let himself fall on his big double bed and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. His apartment had never been so clean since he had moved in, and he had probably never been so dirty. Okay, he had, but he longed for a shower anyway.

The hot water washed not only the dirt away, but also some of the tiredness. Tony felt quite awake, his head was really clear like he had washed that out with soap too. His feet didn't work that well though, when he stepped out off the shower he almost immediately stumbled over them. An involuntary yawn got the best of him and made him decide, despite the clearheadedness, to grab some extra sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day.

Tony felt like he was on xtc when he woke up the next day; ecstatic to the bone, but also knowing that the trip could turn bad in any second. He dressed quickly, combed through his hair once, not having the patience he normally had to make his appearance something worth looking at twice. It was only seven o'clock, but Ziva would be awake. No hospital could make her old habits die, even when they didn't allow her to go on her morning run.

He walked through the revolving door at 0721, his fastest drive until now. He took the stairs up, and stopped short before the closed door that was hers for the moment. Tony took a deep breath. Why were his hands shaking? That was just stupid. He wasn't nervous. What should he be nervous for? For taking an emotionally unstable, physically dependent woman with frightening skills and panic attacks in his home for an uncertain period of time? No, sure not.

He took another deep breath, and tried his smile. It wavered for a second but steadied soon. Check. Okay. He should go now.

'Ziva!' Tony smiled widely. 'Ready to go?'

He saw on her face that she was eager to finally leave the sickening yellow walls, but she tried very hard to hide that fact. Had she just become so readable, or had he gotten better at reading? Well, which of both it might be, Tony liked it. It had been so hard to keep up with her feelings and moods before, and it looked like they would be living together – kind of – for some time.

'Shall I get you a wheelchair?' Tony offered. Ziva growled at him and swung her small brand new bag over her shoulder. She walked out the door, carefully avoiding his arm, offered for support. But her knees swayed a little as she walked.

'Have you even walked since you came in here?' Tony asked worriedly. It didn't seem like it.

'Sure I did. I walked the stairs yesterday.' Ziva said, being her normal stubborn self he loved, hated and had missed so much. He wasn't fully sure she lied, but she sounded a little off. Tony decided to drop it, and just catch her when she fell. No need to get in a fight before they were even home.

She walked down the hallway by herself, though sometimes seeking support in the walls. She was smart enough not to prove her statement about the stairs, and they took the elevator down. It was empty except for them and gave Tony an odd feeling of home.

Tony drove, of course, and it didn't take long for him to get both of them home. Ziva dropped her bag on the couch, but didn't sit down. 'Shall we go for a walk?' she asked. 'It has been too long since I have seen real trees.'

Tony pondered for a while on that question. He was pretty sure Gibbs wouldn't think of that as "taking good care of her". It was true though, and some fresh air would probably bring some colour to her greyish cheeks.

'Ok,' he finally said, 'but only through the park and back again.' The park laid right next to his apartment, and wasn't big. She should be able to take that. And if she couldn't, he'd carry her back.

Ziva smiled triumphantly. 'Let us go.' She said.

It was cold outside, and the spare jacket that Abby had brought from the office wasn't enough to keep the icy wind out. Tony offered her his leather jacket which she silently took. The sleeves were more than two inches too long and it was wide enough for her to fit twice in it, maybe even three times. She looked like a girl dressing up in her fathers clothes, and it made Tony smirk for a second, until he remembered her father, and imagined what would happen if a little Ziva would have borrowed her fathers clothes to play with. He shuddered, and Ziva wanted to give him his coat back when she saw that.

'It's alright.' Tony said, and grabbed another coat from the hallstand. It was his long, black coat; the one he wore when he wanted to be taken very seriously. When he was again charged for murder, for example. It gave him an itchy feeling, wearing it now. Like there was something bad to come.

He shoved away the feeling, telling himself not to be such a baby and offered Ziva his arm. She only pulled up her eyebrow and grinned, walking out the door, leaving Tony in the doorway. Tony grinned too, there wás something of the old Ziva in there for sure.

They walked down the stairs one by one, at a speed that didn't annoy Tony the littlest but made Ziva grind her teeth. They didn't really have a choice though. The doctors had warned Ziva, and Tony too in case Ziva wouldn't mention it, that she was still very weak and would have to recover for quite some time until she would be able to do the things she used to do. That meant no morning run for the forthcoming weeks, if not months, and no physical efforts in any way for at least two weeks.

After challenging the stairs, in which they succeeded, Ziva was still determined to make it through the whole park. Step by step, they proceeded. It had turned dark and less and less people were around them when the end of the lane appeared.

'Let's halt for a little.' Tony said. Ziva nodded, the strain visible in the muscles of her neck.

'I can carry you back.' he offered when she didn't seem to feel like moving after a couple moments. But Ziva shook her head, closed her eyes for a second as if gathering her strength and started to walk back to the apartment again.

It happened in an instant. She turned slowly, Tony right behind her. In the middle of her turn, she fell down, her legs buckling out from under her. Tony had completed his turn and saw it happen from the corner of his eye. Too late. A thud sounded and people looked up. A few ran to them when Tony kneeled down next to her. Ziva's eyes were closed, she was definitely out. Cursing and hearing Gibb's voice in his mind - _Take good care of her. And if I hear anything I don't approve of..._ – he checked her pulse and breathing.


	21. Chapter 21

So, here is, after a long pause, another chapter. What is it with holidays that they seem to be stuffed with time untill you actually want to use it? Anyway, the story is almost coming to an end here, I think there are four or five chapter to go now, some things are still needed to be said.  
Read, enjoy, review! (and by the way, a happy new year!)

* * *

A boy in his late teens kneeled next to Tony. He had stepped out from a group of friends who looked like they were planning on going clubbing. Some of them were holding a bottle of beer. This particular kid – he was no more than that in Tony's eyes – was wearing a fancy patterned shirt and looked very serious in comparison to his friends, who were giggling and pushing each other around.

'I'm a med-student' he said, while already having his eyes fixed on Ziva. He re-checked her pulse, which seemed to be alright because he moved on to checking her breathing.

'She's having trouble breathing. Can I remove some clothing?' he asked nervously. Tony was looking quite intimidating in his long black coat, his shoulders set and his forehead creased with worry.

'Yeah, do it!' he yelled at the boy, who unzipped the jacket and jerked Ziva's T-shirt up. The med-student halted there. Ziva's bare abdomen were not something that was nice to see. A stitched cut appeared on the end of her breastbone and ended at her left side. On her right hip was a scar that looked like a large splash of light-pink paint, as big as a fist. The boy gasped. Tony sighed impatiently. She could be dying there!

'Hey you!' he yelled. 'She has been tortured, alright? Now go on!'

The boy nodded weakly and slowly started tracing his practiced fingers across her stomach. He hit the edge of the scar and Ziva shrieked, curling up on the ground, protecting her vital organs. Some of the boys took a step back at her scream.

Tony turned her on her back again – her tries to push him away were concerningly feeble – and asked the boy 'What should I do?' Obviously, she wouldn't let some stranger near her injuries, but Tony hoped that he would at least be overruling enough to check whether they needed an ambulance.

The boy looked very scared, this was probably the most difficult patient he had dealt with yet, and said, after taking a deep breath: 'Push with your thumbs just below her ribs,'

Tony followed his orders. His fingers were cold on Ziva's hot skin, and her breath ragged once when she felt them intruding her warmth.

'And?' he demanded.

'Push a little harder.' the boy said. Tony gritted his teeth and dug his thumbs into Ziva's chest. She moaned slightly. The boy to himself nodded, and seemed to be working on a mental checking list as he talked softly, too soft for anyone but himself to hear.

'She'll be okay.' the boy said after several minutes. 'I thought she might have collapsed lung, due to her broken ribs… I do think that she should keep bedrest though, she seems pretty fragile to me.'

Tony nodded, he had that figured out already. Ziva wouldn't be going anywhere, no matter how she would beg. And she wouldn't, that well he knew her.

'Thanks.' he said to the boy, while picking Ziva up in his arms. He straightened her clothes around her again, and gave the boy his card. 'I owe you. If you ever need anything…'

The boy nodded, stunned by himself that he had brought the situation to a good end. Tony heard the familiar noises of enthusiast boys when walking back through the park again. Those good old times…

He carried Ziva up the stairs. She was still limp in his arms and every now and then Tony stopped to listen whether she was still breathing. When he finally reached his floor, he saw his neighbour – a fifty-plus woman who lived alone and had made comments Tony thought could pass for sexual harassment – peeking at him while watering her flowers. Tony smiled his fakest smile at her and then stopped, contemplating what to do. His keys were in the pocket of his jacket. If he would let go of Ziva with one hand, she would drop, and he didn't feel like putting her on the stone-cold floor either.

'Can I give you a hand?' the neighbour asked, right on cue.

'Actually, yes.' Tony said. 'Would you mind opening the door for me? My keys are in the right pocket of my coat.' Suddenly, he was very grateful that he had stuck them in there, instead of their usual place in the pocket of his jeans.

The friendly neighbour picked out the keys and held the door open for him. Tony smiled at her – a little more truthful now – and walked in. He placed Ziva on the couch and went to get her a blanket, she had felt pretty cold.

While searching through his closet, he faintly heard Ziva calling his name. Then the voice of the neighbour, soothing. 'He'll be right here, love. Shh..'

Why was she still in his house? Tony grabbed the blanket from the upper shelf and walked back to his living room, on his guard. Ziva couldn't see him entering from her position and called his name again, more urgent, not soothed at all. 'Tony!'

'I'm here Ziva, I'm here.' Tony said while hurrying to get into her sight. The neighbour – her name was Angela Janssen, Tony recalled – was hovering over Ziva, and though it was a nice gesture, it made Ziva curl in on herself. Her eyes searched the room and she seemed relieved when they rested on Tony. He placed the blanket over her and saw that Angela had taken Ziva's shoes and jacket off, and had draped the jacket like a blanket. She stood when Tony sat next to Ziva, and smiled a sad smile. 'Call me if you need anything.' she said while walking down Tony's small hallway. Tony nodded, surprised by the kindness of mankind today.

Ziva had sunken into a deep sleep that came close to unconsciousness when the front door closed. Tony could finally take a relieved breath. She was still alive.

'You scared the crap out of me there.' he mumbled to her sleeping face.

'Don't you ever, ever do that again.'

'What?' Ziva croaked, barely awake.

'Nothing.' Tony said. 'Let's get you into bed.'

Ziva moaned, but got up slowly. Tony swung her arm over his shoulders and helped her into his bedroom. She tried very hard not to put her weight on him – and failed miserably. Not that there was so many weight, she had become really skinny, even the hospital hadn't been able to change that effectively. It would take time, the doctors had said, and patience. The first one was something Ziva had plenty, but the second one was another story.

'Come on, let's get you into something more comfortable.' Tony said. Ziva was wearing the spare clothes from her locker back at NCIS, but they were suited for challenging field-work rather than for sleeping in them. He untied her shoelaces while she was sitting on his bedside. He had imagined her sitting there so many times, but never like this. God no, never like this, exhausted and malnutritioned and traumatized.

His hand went up to unbuckle her belt – it had been necessary, she had become much to slim for her old cargo pants – when she laid her hand on his, restraining.

'I can undress myself.' she said and though Tony doubted that, he stood. He could understand that that was something she would like to do alone.

'Take whatever you like from my closet. I'm on the other side of the door, alright?'

Ziva nodded. Tony walked to the door and closed it behind him, resting his forehead against it. With his own life, he would have trusted her completely. But she had the knack of being way less careful with her own, even when said life needed to be cared for more than ever. Well, if she didn't then he would, Tony thought when he placed his ear against the door to check on her.


	22. Chapter 22

I hope that, despite my not-so-regular updates, you're still with me :) This chapter was meant to be a short part of one, but grew and grew until I had no choice but to make it a seperate chapter. I hope it worked out as I wanted it to.  
Read, enjoy, and leave me a review :) I was truly estatic when I hit 100 - my parents thought I was going crazy. I'm counting on you!

* * *

When all was quiet, Tony silently opened the door. Ziva was lying on his bed, dressed in one of Tony's t-shirts. The sleeves came up to her elbows and it ended mid-thigh. She had always appeared tall, simply because she wasn't somebody to look down upon, but she wasn't. It seemed that she had just fallen backwards in exhaustion and fallen asleep instantly. She was snoring loudly and Tony smiled – that sound brought so many memories with it. He gently pulled the blanket out from under her and tucked her in. For a moment, he played with the thought to lie down beside her, but dropped it. It wasn't something she could – or should, for that matter – cope with now.

The closet squeaked and Tony held his breath, hoping Ziva wouldn't wake up. She stirred and moaned something unintelligible, after which she started to snore again. Tony chuckled under his breath; tomorrow she would claim he was lying if he told her she snored. She always did.

Tony changed into sweats silently, then stood in the doorway for a while, just watching. A lot of weight had disappeared when she fell asleep, but the defined thin lines in her forehead weren't smoothed out by sleep. That required something with much more force. Something like a bulldozer, Tony thought, wrinkling his forehead like hers.

He stood like that until his feet got cold and walked reluctantly to the couch. Of course he knew that he couldn't spend the night in the doorway, but that didn't mean he didn't want to. The blanket still smelled like her. Tony buried his face in it. She smelled so good. Like vanilla, but not the honey-sweet vanilla in pudding or douche-gel. She smelled like the vanilla that reminded Tony of long-lost times, when his mother made panna cotta and he got to help, cutting the vanilla in tiny pieces and filter them out of the milk. It was a spicy, soft smell that was only slightly sweet. It was mixed with a touch of gunpowder – the price of being a superhero, he guessed – and something else, something he couldn't name nor describe and made it really her. He fell asleep like that: her smell in his nose, her snore in his ears, her face in his mind.

Tony was already standing next to the bed – not quit remembering how and why he got there – when he realised why he gotten up in the first place. The apartment was dead-silent, which got him on edge. He didn't hear Ziva's snore, which was odd in itself, and he didn't hear her breath either. Tony sat on one side of the bed, leaning in on Ziva. Yes, there it was, very shallow breathing that only deepened the silence. It rang in Tony's ears.

'Ziva?' he whispered. She responded with a sharp intake of breath, and something that sounded suspiciously like a stifled cry.

'Shh…' he mused. 'Go to sleep, baby. Everything's alright.'

If she had been fully awake, he wouldn't have dared to call her 'baby' in her face. But like that happened more when he was around her, it just blurted out.

Careful not to touch her because he knew that that would pull her deeper into her hazy nightmare, he scooted closer to her and started to sing the old lullaby. Soon, Ziva sank back into the pillow again and snored with unmistakable noise. Tony grinned and got up, forcing himself to seek refuge in the couch rather than his soft bed that was so very attractive tonight.

He walked up to her like that two more times that night. The adrenaline that rushed through his body every time the building turned silent, made him unable to help himself. And every time, he had dragged himself back to the couch, reminding himself that there was at least the blanket to make it a little more comfortable.

The fourth time he woke was different. Not only was he instantly wide awake, this time, there was no silence. The night air was pierced by ear numbing screams, which came from the bedroom.

'Ziva!' Tony yelled while rushing to her side. She was lying spread-eagled, entangled in the sheets, her hands clenching the blankets. She shook her head as if to avoid something that wanted to hurt her and panted between the screams. Tony tried murmuring soothingly to her; she turned her back to him, shaking violently. For a moment, Tony braced himself for the impact to come, than wrapped both his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. All his strength was just enough to keep her where he wanted her. She kicked and pushed and screamed wilder than before, but calmed after a minute or two – that to Tony, seemed like ages.

When calm, she fell asleep instantly, still drained from the almost-dying and kicking and screaming. Tony stroked her hair; she pushed him away sleepily. That was his cue to leave, to the unwelcoming couch again. He sank into it gratefully though, Ziva wasn't the only one who had had a rough day.

The smell of coffee woke Tony the next morning. He looked at the clock on his bedside drawer, only to find that his bedside drawer was next to his bed which was not where he was right now. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he stood and walked up to the kitchen, where the smell came from. He spotted Ziva leaning on the counter just before he spotted the clock on the wall. Twelve AM it said. Tony cursed. It was a Wednesday, and that meant that he ought to be at work at least four hours ago.

Tony sighed. Now he was late anyway, he could just as well take his time.

'Heya Ziva, that smells good.' he said appreciatively. Ziva turned. 'But don't you remember the kid telling you to keep bed rest though?'

Ziva pulled two mugs from under his coffee machine and furrowed her brow. 'No, I do not.' she answered.

'Guess you were out then.' Tony said, taking one mug and gulped it down, burning his mouth in the process. He saw the memory rise slowly on Ziva's face. She sipped at her coffee, her face having a deep-in-thoughts expression.

Tony held out his hand, Ziva arched an eyebrow at him, demanding an explanation.

'Bed rest and coffee don't go together.' he told her.

'I don't need bed rest.'

'Sure you don't. Come on.' Tony said, knowing that reason wouldn't help anything. He slipped an arm around her waist, and Ziva tensed marginally. Tony put the mug on the table and led Ziva towards his bedroom, urging her to do as he asked. She gave in, but not without giving him a look that said _I'm only doing this because I don't want to hurt you_. Tony chuckled softly.

'I am the visitor; I will sleep on the couch.' Ziva said while Tony threw back the blankets of his bed.

'That's right, you're the visitor, so I ought to be polite and let the lady sleep in my bed.' Tony said, not bothered at all while putting the pillows back into place.

'And I ought to give you something back, like a good night of sleep.'

'You need your sleep the most.'

'I have slept almost straight the last two weeks.'

'And still you need your sleep the most. That says something.'

'I will not let you sleep on your couch while you already do so much for me.'

'I won't let you sleep on the couch either.'

'That leaves only one solution.'

'And that is?'

'Both of us sleeping in your bed. It is big enough.'

'No way. You snore.'

'I do not!'

'You do. And you're quite vicious when you're asleep. You scream and kick and slap.'

Ziva looked away, hurt and ashamed. Tony instantly regretted saying that.

'I am sorry for disturbing your sleep.' she said, silently

'Never mind.' Tony said, feeling self-conscious. 'So you go and take some sleep, then I'll make some calls.'

'Okay.' Ziva said, sitting on the bed and pulling the blankets towards her.

'Okay.' Tony said, fighting the urge to tuck her in again, and went looking for his phone.


	23. Chapter 23

And there's another chapter of some nice Tony-Ziva banter. I like fluff, and I'm planning some, but I just feel like I have to take this slow. I mean, Ziva has been through the most traumatic period of her life - and so has Tony, if you ask me. And maybe it won't come anyway, you never know with writing, it's so damn unpredictable (with me at least). Next chapter there is going to be some more team interaction, I actually planned that two chapters ago but some ideas got in the way.  
And again, enjoy this and leave me something - preferably nice, but everything's appreciated.

* * *

Tony dug his phone out of his pants he had thrown on the floor last night, and snapped it open. Five missed calls – four from McGee, one from Gibbs. Those four from McGee were all made between eight and half past eight in the morning – trying to save his ass. The call from Gibbs made at 0847 was his final chance, and he had missed that. For the first time in his life, he had totally forgotten his work. That would be quite a mess to clean up. Tony walked out of the room, hoping he could muffle the no doubt coming argument enough so Ziva wouldn't hear. She would feel so guilty, and she shouldn't. Besides, there was no need to wake her up. She was still sleeping so peacefully, if it hadn't been Ziva it would have been endearing. It could be called cute though, if you didn't notice the dried tears on her cheeks and the deep scratch that lined her right shoulder and the side of her neck.

Speed dial one. Tony took in a deep breath.

_'Gibbs.'_

'Hi, it's DiNozzo.' he said, faking a lighthearted tone. Nobody was fooled.

_'Finally awake?'_ his boss called, thrifty with his words as always.

'Yeah, I kinda overslept, I guess. I'll be in in… half an hour.' Tony quickly calculated.

_'You won't'_

'Huh?' Tony didn't understand. Gibbs didn't give people the day off, for whatever reason.

'But it's Wednesday, and I've got a massive load of statements and reports to write.'

_'And what'cha think would happen to Ziva?' _

'Well, she's a grown up woman, I think she can stay at home on her own.'

_'Ya think?' was the answer, clearly rhetorical. _

Tony sighed. It seemed like he was going to be Ziva's personal babysitter for now. It was not that hé minded that, but the thought of her finding out he was to look after her was not a pleasant one.

_'McGee will take over tomorrow at 0800 sharp. Get started on the reports.' _Gibbs ordered.

'See you tomorrow.'

Gibbs hung up without saying goodbye – as usual. Tony shrugged and figured he might as well get dressed. He changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, making sure it was comfortable and groomed enough that he dared showing himself to Ziva. He was already fully dressed when he decided he could use a shower as well, so he undressed for the second time within minutes and got into the bathroom, walking on tiptoes to not wake Ziva.

When he came out, Ziva was still fast asleep. It worried Tony, but he was also happy that she finally got the extra sleep she no doubt craved. She looked so cute, the blanket pulled close to her face as if it were a teddybear and her face smoothed out. Tony never thought he would ever be able to imagine Ziva as a little girl, and now it was easy.

'Breakfast.' Tony said to himself while already searching through his poorly stocked kitchen cabinets. Like most bachelors, his cooking skills only went just a little further than putting frozen pizza in the microwave, and therefore most his meals were take-out or something to put in the aforementioned microwave. He found, surprisingly enough, some rolled oats and a carton of milk. Okay, the milk was a day old and the oatmeal probably was from the previous owners, but it would do. The milk smelled okay enough and what could be wrong with rolled oat anyway?

Tony put a pan on the stove and cooked the oatmeal, while softly singing a song that he didn't remember the name of that was an old seventies hit. Gosh, he was becoming a househusband, something he had sworn he would never ever become. The only thing he needed was a wife.

The smell drifted out of the kitchen and a low yawn, that sounded more like a growl, erupted from the bedroom. _The lioness has awoken, _Tony thought with a grin while spooning the greyish breakfast into two bowls. He wanted to put them on a tray, together with the brown sugar he had found tucked behind the box of rolled oat, only to remember that he didn't own one. He decided that his atlas – that derived from his high schooldays – would suffice, and walked up to the bedroom.

Ziva was stretching when he entered the room, her arms thrown above her head and her back arching off the bed. Again, she reminded Tony of a lioness, with her hair spread around her like a mane.

'You up for some breakfast?' Tony announced sunnily. Ziva sat up and groggily rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She eyed the oatmeal suspiciously.

'What is that?' she asked. Tony sat next to her on the bed and placed the atlas on both their laps.

'This is oatmeal.' he said while sprinkling two spoonfuls of brown sugar in the bowl. Too bad there were no raisins.

'Goat meal? As in pieces of goat? For breakfast?' Ziva asked stunned.

Tony chuckled. 'Honestly, do you think this looks like crushed goat?'

Ziva picked up the other spoon and used it to examine the bowl more closely. 'No.' she finally concluded. 'Why is it called goat meal then? Is it what goats eat?'

'It's oatmeal Ziva, without the "g"' Tony finally corrected, not wanting her to struggle with it longer; it was very amusing though.

Ziva nodded thoughtfully. 'Is it supposed to look like soaked cardboard?' she asked innocently. Tony grumbled.

'Kind of.' he said and spooned some of the muck into his mouth to prove it was meant for consumption. Ziva stared at him with a slightly disgusted expression.

'Try it.' Tony said, and offered her the brown sugar.

'That was not so bad after all, was it?' Tony asked cheerfully.

'It is fairly decent.' Ziva admitted while scraping the last bits out of the bowl.

'You ate it like you thought it was more than "fairly decent"' Tony smirked, remembering how little time it had taken her to empty the bowl.

'I lived on hospital food for two weeks.' she reminded him.

'True.' Tony said. 'I'd offer you more, but this was all I had. I can order in, if you want to…'

Ziva shook her head. 'We can get groceries.' she said lightly, as if it was just bringing up a casual topic. Tony rolled his eyes.

'You're not going to get anything.' He peeked at her then; had she noticed the – unintentional – double meaning of those words? He thought not, she seemed oblivious enough, though you could never be sure with Ziva.

'I am going to get hungry.' she replied. 'You can at least go yourself.' _if you're not willing to take me, _her eyes accusingly added.

'And leave you here?' Tony asked, his eyebrows shut up at the likelihood of that.

'Yes.' Ziva answered, as if she really believed that.

'No way.'

'I am-'

'A grown woman, trained assassin, I know, I know. And you are as fragile as a porcelain doll in a kindergarten at the moment.' Tony interjected impatiently

'What is that supposed to mean?'

'That we are both going to stay here.' Tony said, not bothering to explain his made-up-on-the-spot idiom.

Ziva glowered at him, but knew she had lost this fight. She watched Tony call Abby to bring them some food – she was impressed that he made her get ingredients rather than just microwave-meals – and put on his computer. He started typing some report and soon, Ziva's eyes threatened to slip closed. It was unbelievable that she could sleep even more, after two full weeks of barely anything else. The sound of the keys being pushed over and over again was mindnumbing, her stomach was stuffed with warm food, she was laying in a very comfortable bed, and she felt so… safe. Ziva yawned. Tony chuckled but didn't turn to look. He heard how her breathing deepened and slowed and her ever-present snore appeared not long after. He chuckled again. He had to tape that once.

When he was sure she was fast asleep, he turned his office chair so he could see through the open door of the bedroom. He leaned back and watched over his own sleeping lioness – well, right now, lion-cub was a better comparison.

Tony smiled. It was good to be home.


	24. Chapter 24

Wow, that was like the longstest time without an update so far. But don't blame me, blame school! It's hard to believe that it will actually be useful some day. Anyway, someone pointed out - though rather bluntly - that I could use a beta and I totally agree. I know that my English is far from perfect because, well, it's not my mother language and there is so much still to learn, so if you feel like being my beta, please let me know :) I'd appreciate that very, very much!  
And on with the story. Some more team, as promised, because Tony would like to claim Ziva his own but she isn't and at some point, the others would have to take part in her life again. Read, enjoy, leave a message and think about my offer (please?)

* * *

_Knock knock knock. _

Tony tiptoed to the door. It was 0800 precisely, and McGee was there to take over. Ziva was still fast asleep in his bed – Tony had spent the night with her there, because he knew she would make a fuss if he wouldn't. His night had largely consisted of watching her, pulling up the sheets when she kicked them away once again and singing soothing lullabies when another nightmare made it's entry. Three it had been, not one of them containing the terrified screaming from the other night. He had done some good at least.

'Hey Probie.' Tony said in a low voice. He saw McGee was carriying a bag with the groceries he had asked Abby to get him. He took them from McGee and walked to the kitchen to store them in the right places.

'Thanks man. So, Ziva's asleep, you know where to find everything, right?' Tony said while putting some vegetables in the fridge.

McGee nodded and threw his coat over one of the kitchen chairs. Tony just stood, not knowing what to do but not wanting to leave either. McGee gave him a weird look.

'Well, I'll be going then. Call me when you need anything.' Tony said, and walked to his door.

'I'll take Ziva to my place when she's awake, take my fair share. Just so you know.' McGee said. Tony blinked. That kind of came out of nowhere. It was the logical thing to do though, and Tony would never ever admit that he rather had Ziva in his house than in McGee's – or Gibbs' for that matter.

When Tony was almost out the door, he turned and walked back. He wanted to tell about Ziva's nightmares, about how she calmed down when he held her close and mumbled reassurances into her hair or sang nursery rhymes to her. He didn't though on seconds thoughts about how it would sound and turned again in the hallway, closing the door behind him and got to work.

*****

_Rrriiing. Rrring. Rrring._

Tony looked up, annoyed. 'Please boss. Take it.' He growled. The sleep he had gotten last night was not even worth mentioning. Not a moment he thought about asking someone else to take Ziva in, but it was damn tiring. And Gibbs didn't really help right now.

Gibbs arched an eyebrow but did what Tony requested.

'Gibbs.' His boss jumped up and in a reflex, Tony copied that action. Gibbs hurried to the elevator and Tony was just in time to get in with him.

'What's up?' Tony asked. Gibbs didn't shut his phone, but covered the speaker with his hand and looked at Tony, studied him, as if he was wondering whether to tell him. Tony stared back.

'Ziva has a panic attack' Gibbs said, his voice unsure, which probably shocked Tony even more than the message it carried. _And McGee can't handle it. _Gibbs eyes added. Tony could imagine that. He grabbed the phone from Gibbs' hand. Gibbs allowed it, he had been there probably. Hell, where hadn't he been.

'McGee?' Tony asked, not bothering to say hi.  
_'Tony?' _ Tony could hear the shock in his voice. McGee was a clever guy, he knew he couldn't blow this with Tony. He would be tortured and killed with office supplies – even if that took Tony months of practice.  
'What's up?' Tony asked, sounding agitated. He heard McGee take in a sharp breath.  
_'She was asleep and suddenly, she started to scream.' _That sounded familiar, at least. That very thing had denied him sleep most of the night.  
'What did you do?'  
He heard McGee sigh. A dark cloud rose in the back of his mind.

_'I put an arm around her, she kicked it away, and yelled at me, and when I tried again, she bit me. And now she's looking at me like I'm going to eat her.' _  
Now it was Tony's turn to sigh. 'That's probably what she thinks, don'tya think? Put her on.'  
_'What?!'  
_'Put her on!' Tony understood why McGee hesitated, but he couldn't stand the thought of Ziva, huddled in a corner, scared to death by one of the few people in the world she could trust. He heard how the phone fell onto something soft, and heard it being picked up again.

'Ziva?'  
Loud breathing was his only answer. He imagined her holding the phone a little from her ear, as if it would explode right there and then.  
'Ziva, relax, alright? I'll be there in five. He's not gonna hurt you, I promis. Just relax Ziva. Relax…' Tony said, soothing. He started to hum the song he always hummed for her. The look Gibbs gave him escaped his notice – it was a look of compassion, it was proud somehow. Tony being so grown up and responsible was not something that was on display every day.

Tony shifted from side to side in his chair. Normally, he hated when Gibbs was driving but today he wished it was Ziva who was driving. The waiting line for the traffic lights annoyed him endlessly, he had never wanted a police light on the NCIS car more. Gibbs could pass cars in an incredibly small amount of space, but he couldn't mangle the laws of physics.

After one of the most dangerous drives of his life – Tony couldn't care less – Tony threw open the car door before they were even half way a standstill. He jumped out, fell, jumped to his feet again and ran up the stairs to his apartment. He heard the car coming to a sudden stop behind him but didn't turn to look.

He fumbled with the keys and finally managed to turn them in the lock with his shaking hands, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Gibbs was behind him when he threw the door open so it banged against the wall. In the back of the apartment, someone reacted with a sharp gasp – it was not hard to guess who that someone would be.

With Gibbs on his heels, Tony walked to the bedroom, working hard to keep his pace normal. And indeed, Ziva had crawled back into a corner, both her arms wrapped around her knees and her hands on her head. That positions called back many memories that Tony could barely handle without saying a word.

Very slowly, he walked to Ziva. After four steps, he stood. 'Ziva, it's me, Tony. Everything is alright now. Don't worry.'

Again, this made him think of the time in Somalia they spent together. Flashes of dark spaces, of fear, of heavy footsteps invaded Tony's vision for split seconds. He pushed them away to cope with later and stepped closer the shaking figure of the woman he lo– well, that was not a consideration he should make now. There were things that required more immediate attention.

'Ziva?' Tony said, while kneeling down in front of her. She looked up, and he saw fear but also recognition in his eyes.

Gibbs watched from the doorway how his senior agent soothed the scared woman with soft words, and how he broke her defense by stroking her arm. It took a few minutes until Ziva was calmed enough for Tony to pick her up and put her on the bed. There she sat, feet dangling, her head trained on the bathroom door where Tony had disappeared. She peeked at Gibbs, an embarrassed expression on her face that looked odd on her, then looked at McGee, who looked just as uneasy.

Tony came back with a bathrobe, which he wrapped around Ziva – she fit at least twice in it, and the sleeves were way too long.

'Coffee, someone?' Tony broke the uncomfortable silence.

Gibbs grunted in approval, and McGee nodded. Ziva looked hopeful at Tony, but he shook his head at her, the look in his eyes betraying that this was not the first time this had occurred. Ziva didn't seem bothered by his refusal, as if she hadn't really expected him to agree but tried anyway. The silent conversation sent pangs of old agony through Gibbs' gut; he had been there and wished so dearly he still was.


	25. Chapter 25

Yeah, I know you don't believe it, but it's really another chapter. I must admit that I got stuck with the story and forgot all about it until recently. I did finish it though, so after this one there will be two more chapters and then it's over. Again, sorry for the wait! And have fun with the story :)

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Not long after that, they were all sitting in Tony's small living room. Everyone was casting semi-secret glances at Ziva; she looked worn out and slightly ashamed. McGee still didn't know where to look and was probably waiting for Tony to say that it was alright – though he knew very well that Tony wouldn't say that because it wasn't. McGee wasn't the best people-reader, but he sure as hell could see the strong protectiveness Tony had about Ziva and he knew Tony wasn't one for makebelieve when it was about forgiveness.

Gibbs was staring out the window, deep in thought, coffee in hand. There was plenty to think about. Tony was the only one who was flat-out staring at Ziva, his face marked with worry and longing. Nobody spoke, and again, the silence was an awkward one.

Gibbs' eyes lost their far-away focus and he turned to look at Ziva. She looked back, and it seemed that there was some silent conversation – or contest – going on. It was different from the silent exchange before, more of a challenge who would look away first.

'We should get you on some meds.' Gibbs said finally. Ziva shook her head.

'No more crap into my bloodstream.' she said and Tony smiled at her use of the word "crap".

'You can't go on like this.' Gibbs contradicted.

'I will go to the office. I can do paperwork, and with all of you around, I will be fine.'

Tony spoke up, though it felt like he interrupted something he was not allowed to interrupt by any means.

'Bedrest, remember?' he said. Ziva glared at him.

'It was just a kid, how could he possibly know?' she snapped.

'How do you even know it was a kid, you were out the whole time.' Tony remarked.

'You told me.' She bitched back.

Gibbs interrupted there, before the argument could turn into a childish fight.

'You stay here Ziva, and Tony stays with you.'

'But how about…' Ziva interjected.

'Don't dare worry 'bout the agency. Get better, we'll see after that.'

Ziva looked at the ground. It was written on her forehead how uncomfortable she was being the vulnerable one, the useless one, the one who was looked after. Her upbringing had taught her to look after herself and not let anyone come close enough to cause harm. Putting that aside felt like leaving your front door open in a really bad neighbourhood.

'So.' Tony said, to break the silence.

'So.' Ziva said too, mocking him. Tony smiled, not such a large smile that he used to smile, the kind of smile that incapacitated women on a regular basis, but a small, content, intensely happy smile. Ziva smiled back at him, her smile not as filled with happiness as his, out of practise as she was. It was a smile though, and a real one.

'I think you should go back to bed.' Tony said. Ziva frowned.

'Yes, I know, but you also know these… nightmares,' Tony answered the unspoken question, stuttering once trying to avoid words like "panic attack" and "breakdown",

'they make you damn tired. Shoo!'

Ziva looked at him with her eyebrows raised and a playful glint in her eyes. 'Do not dare to shoo me.' she threatened, then yawned. Tony chuckled. 'Not so impressive, Ziver.'

The little nickname slipped out easily, as if it was a daily occurrence. It wasn't though; never before had he called her on a term of endearment not meant as a tease. That this wasn't just a joke was clear, the lack of emphasis and edge of tenderness gave him away.

Nobody gave him away however, whether that was because they hadn't heard it because of the casualty of his tone or because they didn't want to bring up the subject wasn't sure. Ziva stood slowly and walked out of the room. In the doorway leading to the bedroom she halted.

'Thank you for coming.' she said to Gibbs, then 'Do not feel guilty for this. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine.' to McGee. Tony she only gives a look, and another one of her small smiles he has learned to treasure in the last couple weeks. The door closed softly behind her.

'So.' Tony said again, after Ziva had disappeared. 'I guess you'll be off then, there is a hell of a lot of work to do.' Gibbs nodded. He stood. McGee followed his example and almost stumbled over his own feet in his haste not to do something stupid again. Someone else might have said, "call whenever you need me" or "I know you can handle this" or some other sentiment that has been used too many times while still being true. Gibbs didn't. Tony knew all those things already, there was just no need to say them out loud.

'Bye!' McGee called awkwardly while walking out the door. Tony decided not to make a comment on how there was a sleeping woman in the other room. Though he wasn't really pleased with McGee right now, it hadn't been entirely his fault that Ziva had panicked like that.

Tony sat down behind his desk, and got started on the paperwork. It was a miracle he could concentrate so well, but when Ziva tentatively called his name he had already done more than the whole morning in the bullpen.

'Yeah?' he called back, while walking towards the bedroom.

'Nothing.' she called. 'Never mind.'

Tony opened the door and saw her sitting up, leaning back against the pillows.

'What?' he asked.

'Nothing.' she said again. She seemed to deliberate for a moment, then added: 'I just wanted to know you were still there.'

'I would never just leave you.'

'I know that.' she said, a bit defensive and a bit apologetic.

'Then why ask?' Tony said wondering, trying to make it sound like the innocent question it in fact was. Ziva shrugged. Then Tony understood. Being alone made her feel left behind, anxious. Admitting that even this way was hard for her.

'You want to talk for a bit?' he asked. Ziva nodded.

'What about?'

Ziva's brow furrowed. She was silent for a moment, thinking. 'Tell me about your childhood.' she finally said.

'My childhood? Tony asked. Ziva pulled her eyebrows up, as if saying "do I need to repeat myself?".

'Ok. Well. Ehm. You know I used to play the piano? My mother forced me to take lessons, but be that as it may, I actually liked it. Though the lessons itself weren't a really pleasant experience, my mother used to help me practise. She would sit next to me on the stool – it was just big enough for both of us to not fall off – and show me a melody time and time again. She never got tired of it, even when I did myself. "Come on, Anthony" she always said. "Try again, fail better." And then she would play the melody again and I would try again, and mostly fail again. I never really got that saying until after she was gone.' Tony stared into nothing for a moment, remembering the sound of the piano, the sound of his mother's laughter. The last wasn't really a memory, it was more of a reconstruction build by his own mind. Abby would be proud of him.

'I had piano lessons too.' Ziva said. 'And singing lessons. And dancing classes. I loved it. I wanted to play in musicals when I grew up.' She sighed. 'When my mother died my father took me off my singing lessons. Told me it was no use, that I could spend my time better. Not long after that, he started training me.'

Tony didn't dare to ask how old she had been then – he probably didn't want to know. He didn't want to interrupt her for any reason, afraid that she might never open up like this again.

'For some time, I could convince him that the flexibility and strength of my fingers was of some kind of use. But after a few years, my piano lessons were cancelled too. Dancing had been good for coordination and general exercise, but only up to some point. And at that point, I mostly was too tired after training to gather my energy and go. So that was the end of my musical career.' She laughed bitterly. 'Maybe I would have been a superstar now, with people protecting me instead of the other way around.'

'I protect you.' Tony said. Ziva looked up at him, eyes wide, hesitant, vulnerable.

'You do?' she asked, needing the confirmation though somewhere knowing that it was not the slightest bit necessary to ask for it.

'I do.' Tony said, while grimassing at the double meaning.


	26. Chapter 26

And then there is only one chapter left. I never expected myself to be persistent enough to actually finish this. This is a scene I wrote quite long ago, it just popped up in my head and I can really see it :) Next chapter will be the final one - I already finished it, it only needs a bit of polishing - so if there was ever a good time to review, it is now. Thanks everyone for the support so far :) Enjoy, and review!

* * *

'Come on Ziva, you can't wear my sweats forever.' Tony said, trying to get Ziva to do some clothes-shopping for the hundredth time. 'And you like to take a walk, don't you?'

'Not in streets filled with people.' Ziva snapped back. 'I can order my clothes online.' she added.

'And walk around like this for two more weeks? Don't be such a baby and just go with me.'

'You called me a baby?' Ziva said indignantly. She wanted to remind him of the torture she had lived through, but changed her mind. It was not worth losing her calm she had kept up so nicely the last days over this.

'Ok. But I only go where I want to go.' she bargained.

Tony smiled widely. 'Of course.' he said, and went to get her – or his, actually – coat.

He watched as she walked to the car. She was still on medication, so she sat in the shotgun position without arguing. His sweatpants she was wearing, were way too big for her. She used his belt – wrapped around her waist twice – to keep it in place. The same went for the T-shirt, sweater and jacket she was wearing. She looked so nonchalant yet small in them.

They went into the first jeans shop they encountered. Ziva picked a few pairs, and hid in a dressing room. Tony saw how a shop-assistant joined her in her search and decided she didn't need his help with this. Shopping was, after all, a girl-thing.

So he read a paper, probably left by another man, for about thirty minutes until somebody tapped on his shoulder. He looked up into the face of the shop-assistant that had helped Ziva.

'Sorry?' he asked, not knowing what she wanted from him. The girl blushed and fidgeted with her key cord with her name card.

'Ehm…' she started. 'Your girlfriend is crying, in the fourth dressing room on the left.' she finally threw out.

Tony frowned. Ziva, crying in public? Though she had changed, this didn't sound like her.

'You sure you've got the right person?' he asked politely.

The girl blushed even deeper. 'Dark hair, foreign features, in sweats and a man's coat?' she managed to stumble out.

That did sound like Ziva. Damn. Tony got up quickly and broke into a run. His mistake. All his mistake. Oh, why on earth was he so stupid.

And it sounded like her, too. Tony knocked on the door.

'Ziva, open up! What's wrong?' he asked worried and thought briefly about kicking in the door. A sob was his answer.

'Ziva? Let me in!' he called. Lots of people stared at him, and it annoyed Tony endlessly. Obviously, none of them had ever gone shopping with a traumatized ex-Mossad assassin. He glared his best effort of a Gibbs glare, and though it wasn't half as intimidating as the original, most people turned their gazes away.

The lock clicked and Tony wriggled himself in through the smallest gap he could manage. Ziva sat on the floor, her knees pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them. On the stool were the jeans piled up. Ziva was bare-legged.

Tony crouched so he was at Ziva's level. 'What's up, Ziver?' he asked – and there was the little nickname again, slipping through the cracks, revealing more than he wanted to. Ziva shook her head and dropped it onto her knees.

Tony sat down next to her and placed his arm around her shaking shoulders. 'Tell me Ziva. What can I do?' he asked, serious now. She shook her head again, and pointed to the pile of jeans. 'I am…I am…' she stuttered. 'I am nothing!'

Tony's brow furrowed, not understanding. 'What do you mean?'

Ziva looked up, her face shiny from the tears she had shed already. Then she stood and Tony stood with her, supporting her unstable legs.

'Look!' she said, and pointed at her legs. She pulled the sweater and the T-shirt over her head. 'Look!' she said again.

And Tony looked. Though she wasn't half as skinny as she had been when they had found her, you could still count her ribs and her hipbones stuck out further than they should. But Ziva had never been bothered about the way she looked. Yes, she had always been slim, but that was only due to the extensive training she had kept up, even when she had been in the US for years. It was not like she had ever cared what she ate. She used to eat just as much as Tony, sometimes even more.

'Tony, I only fit child sizes! It is all skin and bones. Just look at me!' Ziva said, her voice low but with a scared, panicky edge.

Tony picked her T-shirt and sweater up from the ground, and helped her into it. 'Don't worry, Ziver.' he tried to comfort her. 'You'll gain weight, it will only take some time. And you're still pretty, believe me.' He hadn't really meant to say the last sentence, but it was out before he knew.

Ziva shook her head, not satisfied with Tony's offered comfort.

'It's not that, is it?' Tony asked, while searching for the sweatpants.

'No.' Ziva said quietly. Tony just wanted to ask what was up then, and how he could help her dealing, when the words flooded out of her mouth like a dam had broken.

'It is just, like I am now, I cannot even walk without being afraid to fall. I am so weak, I cannot take care of myself. I am so dependent and I hate it! Everybody can incapacitate me now, I cannot defend myself, I cannot fight when someone is trying to harm me. The only thing I can do is hope that fighting will not be necessary, and I failed to believe in hope long ago. I have no choice but to ask from you what I cannot ask, and I do not want to do that! I want to be the one you should not trifle with, the protector, not the one who is protected. I hate being vulnerable!' she finished, and drew in a breath.

Tony nodded, not knowing what to say. He could say that she would be better soon; that would be a lie. He could say that he would protect her; that would only greaten her feeling of helplessness. So he silently helped her into the sweats again, tying the belt around her waist for her and wrapping her in his coat.

'Let's go home.' he whispered. Ziva nodded weakly and stumbled to her feet. Tony held out his arm and she steadied herself with it.

'Do you want me to carry you?' he asked, knowing that she wouldn't appreciate it if he didn't ask. She sighed, hunched and nodded, admitting the leap of strength more than Tony had thought possible. He picked her up bridal style and opened the door with his elbow. Ziva hid her face in his chest as if she were a little girl; she didn't want to see all the people looking, some even gaping at her. Tony sent an angry glare into the public and when that didn't help, he faintly brushed his coat aside with his elbow so his SIG was clearly visible. Normally, he hadn't wanted to be armed when he was not on duty, but now he felt obliged to protect Ziva and offer her as much security as he could. Hell, if she would allow it he would stuff her into a bullet-proof vest twenty-four seven.

'It's going to be ok, Ziver.' he whispered down at her. 'When you're through this, you'll be stronger than you ever were.'


	27. Chapter 27

It really is the last chapter. This is now officially the first story I ever finished. It's funny to see how my writing style has changed over the past... what is it? six months or so? I can already see improvement - in my English too, which makes me hopefull that I will pass my exam next year. I also incredibly enjoyed that there were so far 122 people who were kind enough to leave their mostly positive remarks, and even more who read, favoured and alerted. Thank you all. Imagine me bowing gracefully to you. So here is the last, and longest, chapter. I hope you enjoy!

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Ziva wore Tony's sweats for two more weeks. Then suddenly, on a Wednesday, she announced that she was going to buy some clothes, making Tony smile.

'Where'd y'wanna go?' Tony asked. Ziva shrugged. 'You pick. You know more about that than I do.' she said nonchalantly.

They ended up in an H&M where Ziva bought practically half a wardrobe. She fit in size two now, once even a four – which made her grin broadly at Tony. They spent three hours shopping, and because Ziva was still as purposeful as she had always been, they went home with a basic new wardrobe. From then on, she only wore Tony's sweats when they had, as Tony called it, a 'lazy day'.

Tony took Ziva to the office twice, and while the whole team had come to visit more than once Tony could see how she loved being there, where she knew everything and felt at home. Slowly, they took up running together, when the doctor said it would be a good thing to build up her stamina. It was hard for Ziva to notice how little ground she could cover, because it was so very easy to see what she had been able to do befóre. They never said it out loud though, never even mentioned it. Tony could, but felt that Ziva was not ready to lay her weaknesses out on the table.

They only fought once. But when they did, it wasn't pretty. Afterwards, neither one could recall what exactly had started it. It had ended with both of them screaming all their frustrations and pent up anger from the past weeks at each other – and as it turned out, there was quite some of that. He called her egotistical, petulant and exaggerating. She called him childish, afraid of responsibility and plain stupid. In the end, they were both so mad that they didn't know what they were saying. 'You're just like your dad!' Tony yelled, his whole body tensed in anger.

Ziva stiffened. For a split second, her eyes were like those of the little girl she had only been to be so short, lost and hurt and so sad that Tony couldn't remember her ever smiling. But that was only a flash. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she took one step closer to him, looking angrier than ever. For a moment, Tony honestly thought she was going to kill him. She didn't though, only spat in his face and stalked off towards the bathroom – Tony blocked the doorway that lead to the archway.

All the anger drained from Tony's system at that exact moment. Mouth dry, he ran after her, but she had locked the door already.

'Ziver? Let me in?' he asked, voice half smothered with guilt. No answer. Tony sat down and leaned against the door. He didn't know whether Ziva was listening; maybe she was in the bath, clutching her knees, hands over her ears. Maybe she sat below the sink, or maybe she was digging through his medicine-closet to find something that would dull the ache she no doubt felt. Maybe she had even gone out through the bathroom window – Tony knew she was capable of that, even now.

'Ziver, I'm so, so sorry. I never should have said that. It is untrue, Ziva, you know that! You might look like him, you might talk like him, you might have his temper sometimes, but you have something he will never have. Talia wasn't the only one with compassion, Ziva! You can put up a stone mask, but we know, Gibbs and McGee and Abby and Ducky and me, we all know that behind that mask there is compassion. It's in your eyes, Ziver. I am so very sorry for even suggesting something so false. Please Ziva, open up.'

Tony sat there, listening, waiting. He heard nothing. He sighed deeply, and started talking again. About movies that she would fit in, or wouldn't. About books she would like. About the American Dream. About feeling lost. He talked for two hours without hearing a single noise from the other side of the door. Then, he sat there listening in silence for a while longer. Still, no answer. Tony stood, and went out to get groceries.

Two hours later, he knocked on the door, contemplating knocking it down, wondering if she would be offended or that she couldn't get any more angry than she already was.

'Ziva?' he asked. Still, no answer.

'I made you dinner.' he continued. 'It's all kosher. Since it's Passover today. I tried finding matzos, but they were sold out.'

The lock clicked. Tony took a relieved breath. Ziva opened the door almost shyly, biting her lip and looking up through her lashes at him. There were tear marks on her cheeks.

Cautiously, Tony wrapped one arm around her. Ziva surprised him by throwing both her arms around him and pulling him tightly against her.

'I didn't think you would stay.' She whispered, sounding embarrassed and relieved.

'I'll never leave you.' Tony said, nuzzling into her hair.

Ziva loosened her grip to look him in his eyes. 'You cannot promise that. You do not know what will happen in the future.' She said, her voice very serious.

Tony nodded. 'I know. And still, I do promiss.'

Ziva looked away, Tony could just catch the look of disbelief in her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't trust him to hold his promise; it was disbelief that anyone would ever say such a thing to her. Ziva might seem to have a pretty solid self-esteem, the lack of love in her childhood had made her vulnerable.

'Let's eat.' Tony proposed. Ziva smiled. 'Let's eat.' she agreed.

They ate dinner like nothing had happened. The steak Tony had bought was good, but the potatoes were not quite well done and the salad was a little heavy on vinegar. It was clear he had tried very hard though, so Ziva didn't say anything about it, grateful enough that he had thought of this day and acted upon it.

Ziva made a few comments on his rambling earlier on, showing that she had listened to all he had said. They talked about Jewish holidays, and American holidays. Some memories of both of them slipped into their stories – they treasured the little moments of openheartedness, unusual as they were.

And as they always did, they did the dishes together, and watched a movie (Mathilda this time, because Tony insisted that was a classic. Ziva turned out to actually like it, even though she didn't fail to point out every unlikely detail). It was before ten that they both went to bed, they had become accustomed to each others company over time.

'Goodnight.' Ziva mumbled, already half asleep.

'Sleep well.' Tony answered, wide awake with all that had happened that day.

It was dark when Tony woke again. The clock told him it was only 4 pm. He knew what had woken him. It was what woke him time and time again in the middle of the night. It was Ziva, getting to the part of her sleep where the dreams turned into a nightmare she knew too well.

She tossed and turned and let out a soft whimper. As always, Tony pondered whether or not to wake her. She needed her sleep, yes, but he didn't think waking up screaming was good for her either.

'Ziver?' he whispered into her dark hair. She moaned and turned away from him.

'Ziva?' he asked again, a little louder now.

'Noo…' she nagged sleepily. Maybe she would sleep well, for a change. One time had to be the first. Tony lay down again, trying to relax. He felt himself drifting away quickly. Every night when she woke up screaming, so did he. He didn't mind, but it did make him damn tired… He yawned.

The next time he woke, it was 4.32. Not that Tony noticed. Because now, Ziva was screaming.

'Ziva!' Tony tried to wake her, but as always, it didn't work. So he shook her, as gently as possible, with just enough force to snap her out of the dream.

She woke with a ragged gasp, her eyes flying open as if she'd heard a shot. Quickly as you'd expect from a former-Mossad officer, her eyes focused and grew soft when she saw Tony.

'I'm sorry to wake you.' she said, her voice rough from screaming.

'I'm sorry to not haven woken you earlier.' Tony replied.

'I'll go back to sleep.'

'You don't want to talk about it?'

'I'll be fine.'

It was the conversation they always had between four and five in the morning. Tony knew she wasn't fine in whatever meaning of the word, but if Ziva didn't want to talk about something, she didn't. She always turned her back to him and pretended to be sleeping, whether or not aware that he knew she was faking it.

Surprisingly enough, this time she didn't turn away. In the dark he could only see her glittering eyes, staring at him. She sighed.

'I don't want to sleep.' she said, and sounded like a child afraid for the monster under her bed.

'You don't have to.' Tony said. A silence fell.

'I'll stay up all night if it makes you feel better.' he added after several quiet minutes had passed.

'You will?' Ziva asked, sounding sincerely surprised.

'I will.' Tony confirmed, and then, without thinking about it – if he had thought it through, he probably wouldn't have even tried – he very softly pressed a kiss onto her lips.

Another silence fell. Tony heard how Ziva's even breathing became uneven.

'I'm sorry.' he said, quickly, silently cursing himself. She was recovering from something almost unable to recover from, for goodness sake. And then he just made it all even more complicated by kissing her against her will.

'I shouldn't have. I'll… I'll sleep on the couch. I'm sorry.' Tony said while pushing the blankets aside.

Ziva didn't answer, but laid her cold hand on his warm, bare chest. Tony stiffened.

She rolled over so she was very close to him but their bodies didn't touch. Tony could feel though that she was only an inch away, maybe even less. She stared into his eyes, and he stared into hers. Without breaking any of the tension between them, Ziva leaned in and kissed Tony just as softly.

'Ziva' Tony breathed.

'Tony' Ziva smiled back.

Very gingerly, Tony cupped his hand to her face to kiss her again. She kissed him back, her lips and tongue feeling cold against his. Since they had come back, she'd never been really warm, even when she was wrapped in blankets. He trailed the form of her jaw, her neck, her collarbone with his fingers. She shivered, but not from cold this time.

Ziva then fisted her hand in the fabric of Tony's T-shirt, pulling him to her. Their foreheads touched, and Ziva loosened her grip, laying her hand on his arm.

'I love you.' Tony said softly, softer than a breath. Ziva nodded, making their foreheads rub together.

Tony knew she wasn't ready to say it back. But he was more than willing to stay around and wait until she was.

* * *

And that was really it. All of it. Thanks for sticking with me :) And hopefully I will see or hear from you soon!


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